The Castle Case Files
by Minstrel164
Summary: These are Richard Castle's memoirs based on the cases that he assisted Kate Beckett and the NYPD to solve.
1. Chapter 1

_**I have always wanted to write Castle's memoirs based on episodes from the show. This is the result. When I started the first chapter I found myself unable to stop. I had planned something in the region of around 5000 words. Much to my surprise it ended up being over three times that. So rather than inflicting the entire chapter in one go, I will break it into three or four parts. Also this is going to be on going but the case files will appear from time to time, whenever the mood strikes me. All the same I hope you like it.**_

**The Castle Case Files**

by Minstrel164

Chapter 1 :

The Case of Flowers For Your Grave.

Part 1

It's funny how the Universe can throw you a curve ball right when you least expect it.

There I was at the height of my fame and fortune, could not want for anything...ready to begin the next installment that was the Derrick Storm story when I found I couldn't. I would sit and stare at the laptop hypnotised by the flashing cursor on the blank page.

I always had a sense of excitement when I started writing a new story. A sense of wonderment of where Derrick would take me on this new journey we were about to start. We had taken so many wonderful adventures Derrick and I.

Nothing.

I found myself standing at the start line. It was not as if I did not know what I was going to write. I had been planning and fleshing out the story idea months in advance. Had done the research and had it all at my finger tips ready to consult when the need arose.

Nothing.

My brain was willing but it seemed that my fingers refused to obey the commands they were being sent. I sat and stared at the blank word document. It did not help the creative process having constant threats of bodily harm from ex-wife number two and publisher to provide chapters for her to peruse.

Through sheer force of will, and may I say no little amount of talent I eventually began writing the story that would become the last Derrick Storm novel. I felt that I was going through the motions to be honest but I managed to churn out a novel that was acceptable to my publisher and more importantly my fans.

Looking back on it now I was pleased that I had the talent to be able to write a book that I did not have my heart in. I will be the first to say that it was not one of my best efforts. The only thing memorable about the book was that I killed off Derrick.

Yeah I had committed murder. A real messy one at that. I'm sure there are shrinks out there that would have a field day trying to analyse that. The truth be told I had grown bored with Derrick. He used to be fun. There was a sense of excitement, never knowing where he would take me. Writing Derrick had never been like work, it had been fun and I am a person who likes fun. The previous book had been an indication. I knew what was going to happen in every single scene. Sad to say Derrick had become predictable. There were no more surprises.

While my publisher did what publishers do when they prepare a new book for publication I sat around at the loft trying to find things to break the boredom.

To get ex-wife number two off my back I had told her about a new book I was writing. I spun her some tale of murder and mayhem and of adventure and romance that she bought hook, line and sinker. So much so that she gave me an obscenely large advance. I seem to recall having to sign a new book contract somewhere in there as well.

But I was not writing a new book. I had nothing to write. I was bored. Most nights I would be trying to get rid of the boredom by being seen out on the town with some starlet hanging off my arm attending some play or upmarket restaurant and getting my face on page six of The Ledger. In other words maintaining the playboy reputation that Paula my agent had carefully crafted.

During the days I would get up late, going nowhere near my laptop other than to download some porn or some such thing. In the afternoons I'd be sitting around in a t-shirt and boxers waiting for post time at Belmont. I have to say that I won a bit of money and lost a bit of money betting on the ponies but on the whole I came away with a bit of profit. Even that quickly lost it's excitement.

Thankfully there was Alexis to keep me a little focused. My life might have been in a bit of a mess but it was secondary to Alexis' needs. She came first and for her I did make the effort.

Amongst all of that mother moved into the loft. Her latest marriage had hit an iceberg of Titanic proportions. Her husband had absconded with all her money leaving her homeless and penniless. I played the dutiful son, offering her a place to stay at the loft, rent free I might add. I could have done no less. Mother accepted and moved in with alacrity.

I had been all eager to have mother's estranged husband hunted down to recover the money he had stolen and have him punished for having left her. After all I knew a guy who owed me a favour. Thankfully before that idea really took hold, mother managed to dissuade me from that course of action.

Despite mother's diva turns and active social life that I did not want to know about, I was grateful that she had moved in. She was always the first person I turned to when I had troubles raising Alexis. Martha Rogers may not have been the most conventional of mothers but all things considered I did not turn out too bad. Her sage advice was welcome and more often than not, spot on.

The night of the Storm Fall book launch arrived. I was not looking forward to it. I hated the thought of facing all these invited guests, A Listers, B Listers and C Listers not to mention the wannabes most whom did not really care about what I wrote and all they cared about was being seen and hoping to have their pictures in the weekly celebrity magazines. With some I could not help but wonder if they had ever read a book.

I also hated the prospect of having to face reporters and the one question that all of them would be asking me. _Why did I kill off Derrick Storm?_ I could not come out and say that the guy bored me, now could I? With Paula's help I came up with something about the time had come to move on, to start new projects. Something like that. At least that would be the line I would be trotting out when they bombarded me with the inevitable question.

And into the maelstrom I plunged sunglasses, and fashionably unshaved playing the badboy to the hilt, signing books and female chests to my heart's content. I shmoozed with the best of them, made a little speech thanking everyone for showing up to this little soiree and hoping that they bought the book. Fat chance of that happening as most of them would be picking up one of the many free copies that were prominently displayed on tables around the club. I doubt many of them would even bother to read the book.

Ex-wife number two was still not happy with me for having killed off Derrick Storm berating me once again about it. You would think that she would accept it and move on. But oh no, like a dog with a bone she would not let go. Why couldn't I just have retired him, or maimed him or something? She asked. I countered that Derrick was not the golden goose, I was. That was when she brought up my current writer's block. She mentioned something that only those living with me knew, about sitting around in my t-shirt and boxers. I knew exactly who her source was and I was not pleased. I assured her that I was all ready working on the next best seller. Gina was a little dubious but before she moved off to meet and greet some high profile personage in the publishing world who had been invited to the book launch she did make the threat of demanding the return of the advance Black Pawn had given me.

I told her that I had all ready returned it to her in the form of alimony after our divorce. I thought that was a pretty witty remark. Gina made no further comment but gave me the evil eye before walking off.

I went to find Alexis and mother. I found them at the bar. Alexis, bless her had her head buried in a couple of school text books more interested in school than having a good time at this book launch party. It is moments like this that I sometimes wonder if she really is my child.

Mother was impervious to my admonishment of her letting slip to ex-wife number two that I was having trouble with the next book. I reminded her that I was allowing her live at the loft as long as she did not talk about what happened there. It was like water off a duck's back to her. She flittered off in search of an unattached male companion to have fun with.

Left with Alexis I tried to convince her to have some fun while she was here but my darling daughter was more concerned about the exam she was studying for. However we got to talking as we usually did.

XXX

As the Storm Fall book launch party gathered steam, in another part of town a team of homicide detectives and crime scene investigators were investigating the murder of a young social worker. The lead detective examined the scene and immediately recalled to mind that she had seen this scenario once before. It immediately set a chain of events unfolding that would change my life and hers forever.

XXX

There I was at the bar with Alexis trying to explain why I had decided to kill off Derrick Storm. I was lamenting that there were no more surprises left. I had was bored with all the same old, same old questions. Just once I wished someone would come up to me and say something new.

It was in that moment that the planets had all aligned, that the universe took pity on me and my lamentations, that Fate decided to take a hand.

"Mr Castle?" Came a female voice behind me.

I whipped about pulling out a pen, fixing a smile to my face.

"Where would you like?" I said automatically, thinking another fan had come up asking for an autograph. I stopped short.

"Detective Kate Beckett NYPD. We need to ask you about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

I was confronted with a vision of loveliness. I was stunned by this woman standing before me holding up her detective's badge. In all honesty it was not often that I was left speechless by a woman but Kate Beckett had succeeded.

"That's new." Alexis quipped, breaking the spell that had been cast over me.

Recovering my wits I informed Detective Beckett that I was more than happy to assist one of New York's finest in her investigation. Ex-wife number two was less than pleased having her star writer hauled away by the police. She tried to prevent it but Detective Beckett was insistent and to be quite honest I wanted to get the hell out of there. I made sure that mother took Alexis home before turning my full attention to the delightful Detective Beckett and telling I was all hers to do as she pleased. I may have added one of my patented leers when I said that.

I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to ride to the precinct with Detective Beckett. Instead I was deposited in the back of a marked police cruiser. Nothing new there.

At the precinct I was put into one of the interrogation rooms and left to my own devices for a little while. That was okay. This was not the first time I had seen the inside of a police interrogation room. I waited and waited, and then finally, the delightful Detective Beckett made her appearance.

She strolled into the room as if she owned the place. She brought with her several files one of which was rather thick looking. No guesses as to whose name was on that particular file.

"You've got quite the rap sheet for a best selling author." Detective Beckett announced as a way of starting the ball rolling in this interview. "Disorderly conduct, resisting arrest."

"Boys will be boys." I brushed off with a suitably feigned guilty look.

Detective Beckett did not seem impressed and consulted my file.

"Says here you stole a police horse?"

"Borrowed." I corrected.

"Ah. And you were nude at the time?"

"It was spring." I said as if that explained everything.

I have only vague recollections of that particular episode but I strongly suspect a lot of alcohol may have been involved at the time. Detective Beckett was not very impressed. She glared at me.

"And every time the charges were dropped."

What could I say, the mayor of this great city of New York is a fan. When I managed to get myself into trouble with the police a quick phone call to him and the charges were made to go away. It does have its benefits having friends in high places.

To assuage her look of disapproval I did offer Detective Beckett to let her spank me. That earned me a glare and she swatted me down by telling me that this bad boy image that I had going might work with bimbettes and celebutants but as for her she worked for a living so that made me one of two people in her world. Either the guy who made her life easier or the guy who made her life harder. I had to trust her when she said I didn't want to be the guy who made her life harder.

I had put on my best bad boy impersonation as I sat there in the interrogation room but it made no impression on her. Seeing Detective Beckett up close certainly made an impression on me. I saw a glimpse of what she might be like during an interrogation. Certainly I did not want to be on the receiving end of one of those kinds of interviews. Having smacked me down I managed to squeak out a noise of understanding.

Detective Beckett showed me a photograph of Alison Tisdale and in that moment I was drawn into the case. Alison was a pretty girl. To Detective Beckett's disappointment I told her that I did not know her, could not recall having met her at a book signing or charity event and certainly she was not a name in my little black book.

Another photograph was passed over. Marvin Fisk, a small claims lawyer. I made a quip about most of my claims tending to be on the large side. This little quip made Detective Beckett roll her eyes at me. I found that action rather cute. Again I told her that I did not know the man. Curious, I asked her what all this had to do with me.

Detective Beckett then revealed that Marvin Fisk had been found murdered in his office two weeks previously and that she did not put it together until the Alison Tisdale crime scene tonight. She produced a photo of the Tisdale crime scene and slid it across to me. I studied the crime scene and saw that the body had been covered in rose petals and sunflowers covered her eyes.

"Flowers For Your Grave." I murmured.

Detective Beckett then produced a photo of the Fisk crime scene and showed it to me.

"And this is how we found Marvin Fisk." Detective Beckett said. "Right out of _Hell Hath No  
Fury."_

"Looks like I have a fan." I said, studying both photographs.

"Yeah. A really deranged fan."

I looked over the photographs I had been studying and offered a small smile across the table.

"Oh, you don't look deranged to me." I said.

It was the first time I saw the delightful Detective Beckett looking a little flustered. I found it amusing. I pressed on.

"_Hell Hath No Fury?_" I said. "Angry wiccans out for blood? C'mon. Only hardcore Castle groupies read that one."

_Hell Hath No Fury_ is not one of my best efforts. On a list of all the books I have written this particular volume would be found somewhere down near the bottom of the list, if not right at the bottom. It had been written during a bad period in my personal life. I would not call it a mistake, having written it, but I'm not particularly proud of it. Still, I did learn something having written it.

Also I had just discovered that the delightful Detective Beckett read my books. All my books from the looks of it. The good and the bad. Interesting.

There was an adorable blush of pink dusting the delightful Detective Beckett's cheeks as she tried to regain control of the interview.

"Do any of these groupies ever write you letters? Disturbing letters?" She managed to stammer out.

I was amused by the turn of events. I told her that all my fan mail was disturbing. An occupational hazard I added.

"Because sometimes, in cases like this, we find the killer attempts to..."

"The Killer attempts to contact the subject of his obsession." I interrupted her, "I'm also pretty well versed in psychopathic methodologies." I grinned then added. "And you know you have gorgeous eyes?"

She did. She truly did. It was those hazel eyes that had arrested me back at the book launch party. Not the NYPD badge. I could so easily lose myself in them. They sparkled with intelligence with the suggestion of mischief dancing there in the background and a hint of sadness. I could write a whole book about Detective Beckett's gorgeous eyes. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little but not much.

It took the delightful Detective Beckett a moment to recover her composure following my confession. The colouring on her cheeks had darkened that little bit more which I found pleasing. I was definitely intrigued by this woman and what her story was.

"So, I take it you would have no objection to us going through your mail?" Detective Beckett asked.

I told her to knock herself out. My attention was drawn back to the crime scene photos. I asked her if I could get copies. Detective Beckett was surprised by the unusual request. I informed her that I had this poker game, my writer buddies, Patterson, Cannell, best sellers, and she had no idea how jealous those guys be to learn that I had a copy cat. I wanted to make them turn green with envy. In my excitement I told her that having a copy cat was, in my world, the red badge of honour, the criminal Coopers Town.

My request for copies of the photographs earned me a glare. The look that I would come to know as the Beckett Death Glare. My request was shot down in flames.

"People are dead, Mr Castle." She reminded me tersely.

"I'm not asking for the bodies. Just the pictures." I said sheepishly.

"I think we're done here." Detective Beckett announced.

Detective Beckett made sure to gather up the photos from the table returning them to their file and then marched out of the interview room leaving me there on my own.

An amused smirk rose to form on my lips as I watched the departing figure of Detective Beckett. I was very impressed with Detective Beckett. Apart from that one moment when I struck too close to home which I regretted, she had managed to hold her own in the back and forth banter we exchanged. I think I did managed to get under her skin. I was curious to see how far I could push her given the chance.

XXX

It was way after midnight when I returned to hearth and home. In the cab ride home I had been thinking over the two murders that Detective Beckett had shown me. The thrill of having a copy cat killer had cooled considerably. Detective Beckett was right, people were dead. The one thought that had kept going through my mind was, why?

On entering the loft I was greeted by someone playing the grand piano and my mother belting out a song from Oklahoma, _'I Can't Say No'_ to be exact. Mother spotted my entrance and called out, telling me that she was showing Burt, obviously the piano player's name, how she did it at the Palace.

"Does he know it's your theme song?" I quipped in way of greeting.

Mother chuckled at the remark and waved me away. I continued on my way to the kitchen as Martha Rogers and Burt brought it on home. In the kitchen I found Alexis doing work. Finding my mother entertaining a gentleman caller is no surprise nor is finding my daughter sitting at the kitchen island doing homework.

As I greeted her with a kiss I told Alexis that she was missing the late show. Alexis replied that she had seen it in preview. She did not sound too impressed. I was also informed that Burt did magic. I expressed the hope that he disappeared by morning. I buried my head in the fridge and extracted a can of whipped cream and shot a goodly amount into my mouth. Nothing like a midnight snack.

Alexis it appears was not staying up late on a school night to supervise her grand mother but had been waiting up for me. I suppose it is not every day a daughter sees her father escorted out of an important function by the police.

At first I was not going to tell her about it but she then threatened to go onto the fan websites to find out. She was concerned, thinking that I was in trouble. I was able to reassure my daughter that despite my best efforts this time I was not in trouble. The police had called me in because they needed my help on a case.

I told her about the case about someone killing people the same way I killed them in my books. It was just senseless. Alexis put forward that murder usually is senseless. I begged to differ. Murder usually made a great deal of sense. Passion, greed, politics. What bothered me was the fact that the killer had chosen some of my lesser works to use for his copy cat killings. Why choose those books? That is what did not make sense to me.

Before I could ponder further on that question, Alexis took charge and sent me off to bed suggesting that I could figure it out in the morning. I had to agree that Alexis was right. There are times I am left wondering who is the adult and who is the child in this relationship. A few years ago if asked that question I would have easily answered that I am the adult and Alexis is the child. More and more these days it is the other way around.

So off to bed I went, to sleep perchance to dream. Dare I say that I hoped a certain New York Police detective would invade my dreams?

XXXXX

_**There is the end of part one. Your thoughts would truly be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_

_**P.S. For those waiting for the next installment of "Moments In Time" I will be posting the next chapter very soon.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Case of Flowers For Your Grave

Part 2

The following morning I awoke feeling refreshed if a little tired from not too much sleep. Nothing unusual there. Many had been the times I had survived on little sleep, especially when I had a dead line to meet. This time it had been a couple of dreams featuring a certain New York police detective and very little clothing that kept me entertained during the night. All the same I had bounded into the kitchen with a spring in my step and a growing sense of excitement.

The question of why the killer had chosen _In A Hail of Bullets_ and _Hell Hath No Fury_ still plagued me. It was whilst I was in the shower that I resolved to find out why. Why had the killer picked those books? The only way I was going to get to the bottom of the story was to offer my services to the NYPD.

My darling daughter of mine was all ready having breakfast when I made my appearance. She was dressed and ready for school, her nose buried in another school book while from time to time shovelling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Alexis would have to be the only child in the world who never wanted to sleep in on a school day. In some respects I think I have failed as a parent but looking at the overall package before me I could not help but smile with fatherly pride.

Noticing the absence of my mother I figured she was sleeping off the late night show tunes cabaret she had put on for the piano man Burt.

"Any sign of Burt?" I enquired after planting a kiss good morning on the top of Alexis' head and then moved to the coffee maker.

"No." Alexis replied. "Perhaps he made himself disappear?"

"We can live in hope." I ventured continuing on from what I had expressed the night before. Alexis nodded her head in agreement.

Thankfully breakfast with my daughter was not ruined by any awkward appearance of the piano man or mother putting on a melodramatic turn as a result of the hangover she was suffering. It was not long before breakfast was over and Alexis was flying out the door to attend her institution of learning but wishing me a good day and punctuating it with a _'I love you'._

XXX

Captain Roy Montgomery was a tall man in his mid fifties with a bald head and a moustache that covered his upper lip. He had worked hard to get where had gotten to and was proud of his achievement. The business suit he wore was something that had been bought off the rack but it was well tailored as befitted his position. He gave off an air of being a gruff but paternal kind of boss. Yet those dark eyes of his did not seem to miss much that went on in his domain in the precinct. One of the first things that struck me when I met him was there was more than met the eye when it came to him. Little did I know how true that observation would turn out to be. Several years would pass before that original thought came painfully, and sadly true.

I had to call the Big Cheese's office to set up the meeting with Captain Montgomery. Within the hour I had a call from Denise, the Mayor's secretary informing me that a meeting with the captain at the 12th Precinct had been set up.

Montgomery initially had not been too pleased to get a call from the mayor's office advising that it would be in his best interests to meet with me. To his credit the captain did hear me out with what I was proposing. I guess most police are a bit wary of having civilians coming to them believing they know more than the cops. Montgomery having heard me out made his decision. It might be a good idea if I consulted on this case.

Montgomery and I were standing in his office when the delightful Detective Beckett walked into the bullpen. She was carrying a heavy looking box filled to the brim with fan letters of mine. She was accompanied by a couple of uniforms also carrying more boxes of fan letters. She passed the box she had been carrying to one of the detectives.

Captain Montgomery called her into his office. I must say she was a little surprised to find me standing there with a smug grin on my face. The surprised look on her face soon darkened with anger when the Captain informed her that I had offered to assist her investigation. I did not help matters when I made some smart remark about it being the least I could for the city that I loved.

Detective Beckett shot me a look that could have felled an army. She turned to the captain requesting to speak to him alone. No doubt wanting me thrown out of the precinct on my ear. I'm sure she would have gladly done it herself if the Captain had ok'd it. Captain Montgomery dismissed her request with a simple but firm 'no'.

The next glare Detective Beckett gave me had me almost wanting to check all my body parts to make sure that were all where they should be. She stormed out of Captain Montgomery's office. I nodded my thanks to the captain before I scurried to catch up with the thoroughly less than pleased Detective Beckett.

My offer to assist soon found me sitting in one of the conference rooms surrounded by stacks of fan letters. Sitting across the table was Detective Beckett, she too had piles of fan letters one stack was for the letters she had read and the other stack was of letters still to be read. I must confess I quickly grew bored reading my fan mail. Some of them I had read before.

Mostly when I get bored I become restless. Thankfully there was something to keep the boredom at bay. I decided to study the young woman sitting on the other side of the desk. I tried not to make it too obvious and thought I managed to get away with it, pretending to read the letter I was holding in my gloved hands but looking over the top of it so that I could study Detective Beckett. I found I rather liked what I was observing.

Well so much for being surreptitious. Detective Beckett was on to me. She caught me looking at her. At first she did not say anything but I guess it got too much being stared at that she finally spoke up.

"What?" She demanded.

"Nothing." I said immediately. "No, it's just the way your brow furrows when you're thinking. It's cute. I mean not if you're playing poker. Then it be deadly, but otherwise..."

"Can I ask you a question." She interjected cutting off my rambling.

"Shoot." I said easily.

"Why are you here?" Detective Beckett asked. "You don't care about the victims, so you aren't here for justice. You don't care that the guy's aping your books, so you aren't here cause you're outraged. So what is it, Rick? Are you here to annoy me?"

There were two things I took from that explosion from the delightful Detective Beckett, sorry, three things. Firstly, I rather liked the way she said my name. Secondly, yes, the thought of annoying her had crossed my mind, just to see how far I could push it. That would be something interesting to explore. Those two responses I did not voice. I told her the truth. I was here for the story.

"The story?" Detective Beckett said looking a little confused.

"Why those people, why those murders?" I said.

"Sometimes there is no story." Beckett said dismissively. "Sometimes the guy is just a psychopath."

"There is always a story." I insisted. "Always a chain of events that makes everything make sense."

I put aside the letter I had been holding and focused my full attention to Detective Beckett.

"Take you for example." I continued. "Under normal circumstances, you should not be here. Most smart, good looking women become lawyers, not cops. And yet here you are. Why?"

An amused look appeared on Beckett's face. Her lips slowly curved into the beginning of a smile. A half raised single eyebrow added to the affect.

"I don't know Rick, you're the novelist. You tell me." Beckett challenged.

A challenge is what Detective Beckett issued. Very well, my dear Detective Beckett, I thought to myself. Challenge accepted. I called upon my skills of observation and began to give an explanation why we found her here.

"Well you're not bridge or tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when when you talk." I said slowly. "So that means Manhattan, that means money."

Detective Beckett maintained that amused look as she stared at me listening to the story I was telling. Her story.

"You went to college, probably a good one. You had options." I continued warming to the task. "You had lots of options, better options. More socially acceptable options. And still you chose this. That tells me something happened. Not to you. No, you look wounded but you're not that wounded. It was someone you cared about. It was someone you loved."

As I spoke I could see the slow transformation taking place on her face. The small amused smile had disappeared. I should have stopped there and then but now I was in full flight and I could not stop until I had finished my observation.

"And you probably could've lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught. And that, Detective Beckett, is why you're here."

When I think back on this episode, and from time to time I do, I am filled with remorse. In the silence that ensued after I had finished I could see that I hit the bullseye. Detective Beckett looked unsettled and for a moment I thought she was going to cry. How was I to know I had cut so close to the bone, I practically severed it? I should have stopped when I had the chance but stupidly I didn't.

Detective Beckett proved to be far tougher than I gave her credit for at the time. After a few moments of silence she recovered her composure. It was a cute trick, she said but then added that I shouldn't assume that I knew her.

"The point is, there is always a story. You just have to find it." I said meekly in a post script.

Detective Beckett picked up another letter while I picked up the one I had been reading. I glanced over to find that her face had hardened a little. She quickly looked at me and announced that she had found the story waving the letter in her hand.

XXX

Before the letter was sent to the lab Detective Beckett showed me the letter and it was a drawing in crayon almost child-like in design but identical to Allison Tisdale's murder scene.

While we waited for the lab to do their work we retired to the bullpen. It was a scene of what I could only describe as controlled chaos. Homicide detectives were working cases, some at their desks with telephones practically glued to their ears, others coming and going holding files in their hands. I was sitting in a chair beside Detective Beckett's desk. She was filling me in on some procedural matters when the phone on her desk started ringing. She reached for it and started talking. I turned to face Detective Esposito and began talking to him. I can't remember about what exactly.

Our conversation was interrupted when Detective Beckett finished her telephone call and turned to face us.

"The lab's got lifts off the letter." She announced.

I have to say that I got a little excited at this piece of news.

"Whose?" I asked.

"The system's backlogged." Detective Beckett said with a shrug. "It'll take a week to run a match."

"A week?" I exclaimed. This never happened on TV cop shows I wanted to say but thankfully I did not voice it. I can only imagine the kind of looks I would have gotten from the detectives.

"Welcome to reality, Superstar."

Detective Beckett did a nice line in sarcastic deadpan I have to say.

Well I never did like reality and I told her so. I reached for my phone brought up the speed dial list and pressed the number that I had rung more than a few times over the years. I got through to Denise, the Big Cheese's receptionist. I greeted her in my usual smooth way and asked if the Big Guy was in.

I saw Detective Beckett glaring at me, I explained to her that I could not help it if the mayor of New York was a fan of mine.

In next to no time I was put through to the big man himself, the mayor. I rose from my chair and walked from Detective Beckett's desk engaging in a bit of chit chat about some party we both had attended and that he had disappeared from at the end of the evening, before I asked if he could use his influence to get the fingerprints processed a little more quickly than a week.

I returned to the chair beside Beckett's desk announcing that she would have her prints within the hour. I was expecting a look of gratitude or a word of thanks for managing to unclog the system but all I got was a glare for my efforts.

"Mr Castle, half the guys here are waiting for prints." She admonished. "You just don't jump the line."

"Oh, I think someone feels threatened." I rejoined with a smirk on my face.

"I am not threatened." she defended.

"No. I get it. I can call the mayor and you can't." I said

"We have procedure. Protocol." Detective Beckett said emphasising the words.

I think this was one of those moments that I think I was getting under her skin so I played it for all its worth. I leaned closer and continued.

"Yeah and you always come to a complete stop at a red light and you never fudge your taxes." I said. I started to crowd her personal space as I continued. "Tell me something, you ever have any fun? You know, let your hair down? Drop your top. A little Cops Gone Wild?"

Detective Beckett looked at me with pursed lips before she said. "You do know I'm wearing a gun?"

I think the implication was that if I continued to pursue the line of questioning that I had started I would end up being shot. I never got the chance to find out one way the other. Our little conversation was interrupted.

Detective McNulty, another member of Beckett's team rose to his feet and announced that they had found another body in Midtown. The other members of the team, led by Beckett rose as one and headed out of the bullpen with me close on their heels. I tried not to look too excited at another body turning up. I had to remember that some one had just died. Still, on the inside I was jumping up and down with excitement. Just a little.

xxx

The lift doors slid open and we walked out onto an enclosed roof top pool. A woman was floating face down in the pool. She was dressed in a yellow evening gown and a tiara. A large knife was protruding from her back like a dorsal fin.

"Death Of A Prom Queen." I voiced as I walked towards the edge of the pool.

The excitement of attending my first crime scene diminished considerably on seeing the sight of the body floating in the water. I felt sad at this loss of life, and I felt a surge of anger towards the person who had taken that life.

A uniformed officer with a note book in his hand approached Detective Beckett and gave her the details. The name of the woman in the pool was Kendray Pitney, a resident of the building. The body was found by one of the maintenance guys. Detective Beckett had her eyes on the body but nodded her head at the uniform's quick run down. She gave orders for Kendray Pitney to be removed from the pool. The uniform nodded his head and set about to carry out Detective Beckett's orders.

Detective Beckett rounded on me telling me to stay where I was and not to touch anything. Before I could reply the Detective was walking along the length of the pool to the other side where the maintenance man who had found the body was being interviewed.

Removing the body of Kendra Pitney from the pool did not take too long. Carefully she was laid out on a large plastic sheet on the ground. The medical examiner a petite woman with black hair was bent over the body examining it.

As much as I wanted to obey Detective Beckett's order to remain where I was, I found myself walking over to where the body was being examined. I will claim overwhelming curiosity got the better me as my excuse for disobeying Detective Beckett's order. I crouched down beside the body and began to study it.

The medical examiner stopped working and cleared her throat drawing my attention to her.

"Hi, I'm Richard Castle. I'm consulting." I said cheerfully.

"Richard Castle, the author?"

"On my better days." I grinned.

"Lanie Parish, Medical Examiner." Lanie replied, her face brightening. "I love your books. You know, you have a real gift with the details of death."

I beamed at the compliment. Getting praise from the professionals was touching and made me pleased that I took the time to do in depth research. Nothing turns me off a book faster than when the author has got some detail wrong. The wrong type of plane used by a certain airline at a particular point in time. The wrong type of hand gun used by a certain police force. Minor things to be sure but you lose me when you get the small details wrong. And don't get me started on the big factual errors, I could be here for ever. That's why I take the time to research carefully, so I can be sure that I get the small details and the big ones correct. It's the least my readers deserve.

Detective Beckett had noticed that I had left the spot where I had been standing and was now chatting with the Medical Examiner. She came striding over.

"I thought I told you to stand over there?" She said, irritated.

"I got lonely." I said.

This response earned me an eye roll from the delightful Detective Beckett. She turned to Dr Parish asking for the cause of death. Ever cautious Dr Parish replied that she was not ready to declare a cause of death until she had taken the body back to the morgue and completed a full exam. Detective Beckett pointed to the knife sticking out of Kendra's back, as if to say _'isn't it obvious the COD?'_

"Lack of blood around the wound suggests she was dead before it was inserted." I said, "No foam around the mouth, so we know she did not drown."

"Oh you're good." Dr Parish said in an almost breathless tone.

I gave her a smile of thanks, and then added, "She was killed first and then posed. Just like the others."

I think there might have been a little part of me that was kind of hoping that I might have impressed Detective Beckett with my observations. I did not want to show off, well maybe a little. I wanted to show her that I knew what I was talking about. Yeah, okay, you got me. I wanted to impress Detective Beckett big time.

She did drew me away from the body to have a word. Praise, I have to say is not what I got. She reminded me that this was a homicide investigation not a day at Disneyland. She also added that when she gave an order she expected me to obey it.

"Then you don't me very well." I replied. "You know, in my book the dress was blue."

"Don't try to change the subject." Detective Beckett chided.

"Did Tisdale and Fisk know each other?" I continued.

"We haven't found any connection, why?"

As she said that her phone started ringing and she reached for it. I was on a roll though.

"What about motive?" I pressed.

"He's a serial killer, he doesn't need a motive." Detective Beckett volleyed back before she answered the call.

The call barely lasted half a minute. There was a sudden transformation in Detective Beckett. She rang off and put away her phone and announced that they had gotten a match off the fingerprint that had been lifted from the letter. The owner of said fingerprint was a man called Kyle Cabot, a resident in Brooklyn.

"We got him!" Detective Beckett declared, as we headed for the lifts.

xxx

You would think that sitting in a police car with the gumball flashing and the siren blarring would ensure a speedy trip through the streets of New York City. Well you would be wrong. Traffic in Manhattan was a little heavy making progress slow initially but Detective Beckett managed to find a few short cuts that got us out of the island faster than I would have expected.

I have driven a lot of high performance cars that can go from zero to 100 in less than a handful of seconds. I have sat in the shotgun seat in a Nascar while the driver tore around the race track at top speed while I began to offer up prayers to some deity for my safe return to pit lane. What I'm trying to say here is that Detective Beckett is a very good driver. There was not a moment where I felt worried. Mind you I did remain relatively quiet overcoming my natural tendency to talk, leaving her to concentrate on the road without distraction.

By the time we pulled up to the apartment building in Brooklyn where Kyle Cabot lived we had been joined by several police squad cars as well as the car carrying Detectives Esposito and Ryan.

As the detectives and uniforms marshalled out the front of the building getting ready to rush in. Detective Beckett turned to me and ordered me to stay where I was.

"Scout's honour." I said solemnly.

With a nod of her head she jumped out of the car and led her team into the building. Detective Beckett did not know me very well. There was no way in the world I was going to miss this, no way. I did wait sufficiently long enough for Beckett and the others to get to Cabot's apartment, break down the door, go in and arrest him. I counted to ten and then was rushing out of the car and into the building.

I reached the front door of Cabot's apartment and finding it wide open I snuck in. The cops were busy searching the apartment. I found it a small apartment. The table in the middle of the room was strewn with newspaper clippings, childish drawings of scenes from my books similar to the letter we had found amongst my fanmail. A bookcase along one wall was filled only with my books, hardbacks and paperbacks. I could not help but wonder if I had signed any of those books but I did not get the chance to find out.

Hearing Beckett being called over to something that one of the cops had found I followed and found a closet that could have also been described as a very small room. On the wall there was a mural of photographs of me and more childish drawings like the ones that were on the table. It was like veritable shrine to me.

"Oh, that's creepy." I said as I took in the shrine.

Detective Beckett rounded on me and shot me a glare.

"I wasn't a scout." I told her, explaining my appearance in the apartment.

The Beckett Death Glare lingered but before she had a chance to tick me off for disobeying her order to stay in the car, her attention was drawn by Detective Esposito who was holding up a blouse with two bullet holes like in the Tisdale murder.

"Allison's blouse." Detective Beckett remarked. "I'm guessing he kept trophies."

Detective Esposito then held up the gun he had found in his search.

"22 calibre." He said.

Then we all heard a muffled banging sound coming from the closet near the front door. All the cops in the apartment became alert. Detective Beckett moved swiftly to the closet. With her gun at the ready she opened the closet door.

Sitting on the floor rocking back and forth was a geeky looking kid. This was Kyle Cabot. He started screaming at Beckett and the rest of us to get out of his house. Amongst all the screaming and shouting a pair of uniforms moved in and dragged Kyle Cabot out of the closet. There was more screaming and shouting but was eventually subdued and placed in handcuffs. It was a little unnerving to watch this scene. But at the same time I was relieved that we had got the guy who had murdered three people.

xxx

I was in the observation room standing beside Captain Montgomery watching Detective Beckett try to interrogate Kyle Cabot. No matter how hard Beckett tried Cabot did not speak. She tried being a badass detective and when that produced nothing, she tried a softly, softly approach. A good cop bad cop in one package. All Cabot did was stare blankly and rock back and forth. He did not speak. After about an hour Beckett gave up and left the interrogation room.

Watching Beckett trying to coax something out of Cabot, I started to get this feeling that something did not seem right, did not feel right. I could not quite put my finger on it but something was off.

Beckett entered the observation room announcing that Cabot was still not speaking. That was stating the obvious but I did not want to point that out to her.

"State medical records indicate he's got pervasive developmental disorder." Detective Beckett added consulting the file she had with her.

"Well, that explains his fixation with me." I piped up. "PDD manifests in a single obsession with a single subject."

"Your superfan also has a history of delusions." Detective Beckett said, then looked to Captain Montgomery. "Guess who his caseworker was?"

"Allison Tisdale." I announced.

Detective Beckett shot me a look. I could not tell whether she was annoyed at my interruption, irritated at stealing her thunder or impressed that I guessed right. I'll be honest, I was hoping that she might have been a little impressed.

Allison Tisdale's case files showed that Cabot had been on some heavy anti-psychotic medication.

"Limited Intelligence. Thinks he has a personal relationship with his hero." Captain Montgomery summarised. He looked at Detective Beckett. "Looks like your profile was right, Detective Beckett."

I could not believe what I was hearing.

"So, what? That's it?" I said, shocked.

Captain Montgomery pointed out to me that they had the evidence that was found in Cabot's apartment. They could connect Cabot with the three victims. Two from the diner where he worked and Allison Tsidale his social worker. What more did I want, he added. As he left the observation room he ordered Detective Beckett to call the D.A. And to get Cabot a legal aid.

The tiny feeling that I had experienced earlier grew a little stronger. This did not feel right.

"It's too easy." I declared. "The reader would never buy it."

"This isn't one of your books, Castle." Detective Beckett scoffed. "Out here, we find a guy standing over a body with a gun, he's usually the guy that did it."

This was way too easy. I was beginning to think that the police might have gotten the wrong guy. I tried to convince Detective Beckett but she wouldn't listen. I was all but kicked out of the precinct.

Yet on the ride back to the loft the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that Detective Beckett had the wrong guy. But how to convince her?

xxx

I got home just in time for the regular poker game with my writer buddies. This poker game had been going on for a number of years. I just had enough time to shower and change and set up the poker table and get ready for the game. James Patterson showed up, always eager to take my money and Stephen J Cannell, who is like my writing God Father and is also not averse to relieving me of my money. Michael Connolly was supposed to show up but had to cancel at the last minute.

Now I don't like to brag but I am a pretty good poker player and certainly I could hold my own at some those big poker tournaments in Vegas. Individually Patterson and Cannell could be ruthless but when they joined forces they could be lethal. All the same more often than not I could beat these guys.

Yet tonight my mind was not really concentrating on the poker game, it was elsewhere. Tonight was the first time the writer crew had gotten together since my latest book was launched, so I had to put up with some good natured ribbing from both Cannell and Patterson about killing off Derrick Storm.

It was Patterson who noticed my distracted look and diagnosed the problem. Story trouble. One of the things that I enjoy about playing poker with my writer crew buddies, apart from taking their money, and the friendly back and forth banter as we play, is that we are always willing to help each other out if we are stuck on a story. They are the giants of their genre with countless best sellers to their names and equally countless millions from the sales of their books. Yes we are rivals but friendly ones, and we do help each other from time to time.

Both Patterson and Cannell coaxed out of me what the problem was. I spun them the story I was working on about this famous author who finds a psycho starts staging murders exactly like the author's books. I ignored the jibes Cannell and Patterson shot at me and I tell the guys that the crime scenes are clean, no fingerprints and no DNA are left at the scenes but the psycho writes a fan letter to the author leaving his prints all over the letter. That of course leads the cops to his apartment where they found enough evidence to arrest him.

Cannell and Patterson were both hanging on to see where the story was going to go but I told them that was it. Where was the twist both authors wanted to know. I agreed, suggesting like someone had set the kid up. Cannell said that what my story needed was a character who thought the kid was innocent and keeps digging until he finds the truth.

My face brightened at that suggestion. As I told them, I knew just the guy to do it.

Needless to say both Cannell and Patterson both won money off me. I did not mind, I was happy to part with it. I could write it off as consultants' fees. They had helped me, pointing me in the right direction. Besides, next time we got together I would win that money right back. No problem.

XXXXX

_**There you the second installment of this case. As always your reviews and thoughts would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Case of Flowers For Your Grave

Part 3

I strolled into the bullpen the following day with a plan of action. I waved to a a couple of the detectives as I made my way to Detective Beckett's desk. Luck was with me on this fine day. The delightful Detective Beckett was not at her desk. One of the detectives informed me Detective Beckett had been called away but wouldn't be too long.

I sat myself down in her chair. Last night after the poker game I had come to the conclusion that if I was going to find the real killer I would have to gain access to the Cabot file. What I also concluded was the fact that there was no way in the world Detective Beckett would hand over the file or even a copy of the file to me. Not even the intervention of the mayor would see me getting the file. So I had to resort to another method of obtaining the file. I would steal it. Sorry, borrow it.

Detective Beckett's desk was cluttered with files and all sorts of other things. Her intray groaned under the weight of many files. Searching through the intray I found the file I was looking for. I had to suppress a chuckle of glee at my deviousness.

Reaching for the satchel that I had brought with me I removed the gift I had brought in for Detective Beckett and set it on her desk and then shoved the documents from the Cabot file in a spare folder and then shoved it into the satchel. The now empty file was returned where I had found it. I had a feeling that the delightful Detective Beckett would not be too long in returning to her desk so I quickly decided to cover my tracks by reaching for a file and opening it, pretending to go through it.

I heard rather than saw Detective Beckett storm up to her desk. Glancing up I found an angry looking Detective Beckett staring down at me.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, barely able to contain to her annoyance. She took the file from me and tossed it back on the intray.

"It's a novelist's habit." I said in a way of apology. "Poking through peoples' mail, checking their medicine cabinets."

"Why are you still here?"

I rose from her chair and switched on a beaming smile in her direction. I reached for the gift wrapped box that I had brought with me.

"I just came by to give you this. It's a little something to memorialise our brief partnership." I announced as I handed her the present.

The delightful Detective Beckett was surprised and immediately wary as she held the gift wrapped present.

"Don't look so suspicious. Go on, open it." I urged her.

She gave a wary glance in my direction before turning her attention to the box she held in her hands. She removed the wrapping and lifted up the lid to find a copy of Storm Fall. A look of astonishment swept across that beautiful face as she stared down at the book. Then a brief look of delight appeared. She looked up at me. Words seemed to have failed her.

"I got you an advanced copy." I explained, and grinned. "I even signed it for you. Not that you're a fan."

Detective Beckett opened the book and saw where I had signed the book.

"Thanks. That's actually kind of...sweet." Detective Beckett stammered.

I have to say that I was more than a little amused to find Detective Beckett looking a little flustered. I had pegged her as some one who liked to be in control and a gesture such as giving her this book had left her feeling unsure of herself. Was that a blush that I saw starting to appear on her cheeks? If it was it was adorable, let me tell you.

"Well..." I said.

"Well." Detective Beckett repeated.

"It was nice to have met you, Detective Beckett."

My first thought was to shake her hand but I suddenly had a much better idea. I leaned in and planted a quick but chaste kiss on her cheek before I strolled away from her. I had a big grin on my face as I disappeared from view, pleased with myself that I had managed to hoodwink the delightful Detective Beckett. And I got to kiss her too!

xxx

The New York Public Library is one of my most favourite places in all the world. I had first come here when I was just a boy. It holds fond memories for me. It was my babysitter and my playground. It was here where the world was opened up to me and my imagination was allowed to soar. In here I discovered the literary classics and the giants of pulp fiction. It was here where I read about heroes and villains. I stood on the bridge of the Nautilus with Captain Nemo as we plunged Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. I sat in a courtroom and watched a good man named Atticus Finch rise to his feet and defend a black man in a segregated town in the deep south. I endured the sorrow and deprivations of the Chateau D'If with Edmund Dantes. I pulled hard on an oar as I watched Captain Ahab, standing tall in the bow of our boat with harpoon in his hands as we chased his mythical white whale.

In here Sam Spade, Sherlock Holmes, Odysseus, Jean Valjean and many, many others became my friends. I cheered their victories and commiserated their losses. It was in here where an undying love of reading was born. And it was in here where I took my first budding steps in what would become my writing career.

I could wax lyrical for endless pages about my love of the New York Public Library, and all libraries to be exact but I wont. I think you get the picture I've painted.

After hightailing it out of the 12th Precinct it was to the New York Public Library that I headed for. I did not know how long before the delightful Detective Beckett set the dogs onto me but knowing her I knew it would not be long. I went immediate to one of my favourite tables in one of the reading rooms and spread out the documents and crime scene photos from the Cabot file and began to study them. Almost immediately I began to jot down notes on a legal pad. It did not take me long to find certain things that did not make sense and convinced me all the more that Kyle Cabot was not the murderer.

The door to the reading room burst open and I heard the hard stentorian clip of high heels on wood. I did not need to turn around to find out who had arrived. I was secretly impressed that it had not taken all that long for me to be found.

"Richard Castle!" Detective Beckett called out in an angry tone of voice. "You are under arrest for felony theft and obstruction of justice."

"You forgot, '_making you look bad'." _I quipped as I looked up.

That remark earned me a withering glare from the delightful Detective Beckett and having me wishing I had worn asbestos underwear.

"You know, for a minute there you actually made me believe you are human."

Was that a note of disappointment I detected in Detective Beckett's voice. I couldn't be sure.

"Cuff him." She ordered.

I was hauled to my feet by a pair of burly looking uniforms and the cuffs were snapped around my wrists.

"Oh, bondage." I said excitedly. "My safe word is 'Apples'"

"There's no need to be gentle." Beckett told the uniform. The man obeyed the order and fixed the cuffs tightly, very tightly, almost cutting off my circulation.

"How did you find me anyway?" I asked, curious.

"I'm a detective. That's what I do." Detective Beckett replied.

I noted an evasive flicker in those beautiful but angry hazel eyes of hers. It was my mother I challenged. Detective Beckett to her credit did not deny it. I was not exactly pleased to know that my mother had ratted me out, again. I made a quick mental note to have a long word with her in the not too distant future.

"By the way," I said changing the subject. "The rose petals in the Tisdale murder? They're grandiflora, not hybrid teas."

"I will make a note of it." Detective Beckett said as she gathered up the documents and photographs, shoving them back into the file.

"Yeah, you probably should since it means Kyle Cabot is innocent." I said in a firm voice.

I did not get to plead my case any further because the two burly uniforms hauled me away.

xxx

As I am familiar with a number of interrogation rooms of various precincts in this city that I love I am also very familiar with an equal number of holding cells. I was left to cool my heels for a couple of hours in the holding cells of the 12th Precinct. There were a couple of other guys in the holding cell with me but they did not seem to be the talkative types, so after a couple of attempts I gave up trying to strike up a conversation with them. Well, one of the guys was happily snoring away a very recent drinking binge so conversation with a famous author was not high on his list of things to do.

Eventually I was released from my incarceration and was escorted by a pair of uniforms up to the Homicide floor. In the reception area of the Homicide floor I found Captain Montgomery, Detective Beckett, mother and my daughter Alexis standing there. One of the uniforms released me from the handcuffs.

As a walk of shame it was not as bad as some I have done in the not too distant past. Still it was embarrassing having to be bailed out by your mother and daughter. Alexis broke away from the group and came up to greet me.

"Hello Father." She intoned as she hugged me.

"Hello, Daughter." I replied just as formally.

Mother chose that moment to take centre stage by turning to Captain Montgomery.

"I wish I could say I was surprised." She said with an overly dramatic sigh. "It's my fault really. He never had a father figure."

"Oh, that's not true, mother." I said as I approached them. I grinned. "I had lots of father figures. I see you have met Captain Montgomery and Detective Beckett."

"And they have agreed to drop the charges, if you behave."

Captain Montgomery jumped in with an admonishing word or two about no more interfering with the case. Throughout all of this I noticed Detective Beckett had stood back with an amused look on her face as she watched the interaction. I have no doubt that she was enjoying watching my humiliation, being told off as if I was a naughty school boy.

"Do we understand each other, Mr Castle?" Captain Montgomery added to his admonition.

"Yeah." I said. I looked at Detective Beckett and held her gaze. "But you still got the wrong guy."

"Really, darling. Must you always play the cards?" Mother chided.

With an arm around my daughter and mother I was allowed to be led out of the precinct. Another ignominious episode that is the life of Richard Castle.

xxx

In the town car being driven home I still could not leave the case alone. It bothered me that an innocent man could go to jail. It didn't sit well with me. Rather than having to listen to being told off by my daughter for having been arrested yet again, something that she has become quite good at. Well, she has had a fair bit of practice these past couple of years. I started to build theory.

Somebody had set Kyle Cabot up to take the fall, I said aloud. Somebody who knew enough about Cabot's fixation with me to get away with murder. I concluded that we were not looking for a serial killer but a good old fashion murderer. Someone who had motive.

"You think the victims were somehow related?" My daughter ventured.

From time to time when I got stuck with a particular scene that I was writing I would bounce ideas off her. Most of the time she is a pretty good sounding board. In answer to her question I told her that the police would have found something by now and they hadn't. I continued by placing myself as the writer of the scene. I told her that if I was writing this story, I would have the killer wanting one of the victims dead and just have the other ones killed to cover up the crime.

"But how do you get away with one murder by committing two more?" My wiser beyond her years daughter asked.

Warming to the subject and the theory building that I was doing with Alexis, I explained that, at one death you look for motive. At two, you look for a connection. At three, you don't need a motive because mentally unstable serial killers don't usually have one.

It was at the moment that my mother decided to put in her penny's worth by declaring my theory made as much sense as Mouse Trap, a play that she performed eight times a week for one year straight many, many moons ago and even now she still had no idea what that was all about.

After a moment's pause to let mother's words sink I resumed building theory. I said that the killer would have had to have known both his intended victim and Kyle fairly well and the only victim who had any real knowledge of Kyle's obsession was Allison Tisdale. It was Allison Tisdale who was the intended victim, I declared. The only thing we had to do was to find out why.

Alexis brought all the theory building to a close when she reminded me that if she had to keep bailing me out of jail I would have to raise her allowance considerably. Mother then added that her allowance needed to be raised as well. Ah...family.

It was only recently when I completed the first draft of this chapter and showed it to my beautiful, inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life that she revealed that my insistence that Kyle Cabot was innocent and the reasons why he was innocent had got her to thinking. After I left the precinct with my tail between my legs she sat staring staring at the murder board and drew the very same conclusion I had come to, that Allison Tisdale was the intended victim.

They do say great minds think alike and we were to prove that countless times after that. But I digress, back to the story.

The following day I found myself breezing into the reception area of the offices of Jonathan Tisdale, father of the deceased Allison. I wore my 'famous person' sunshades and an engaging smile. I was going to get to the bottom of why Allison had been the victim. I had no problem calling up and arranging an appointment. You would be surprised the number of doors that can be opened by the name Richard Castle.

"Hi I'm Richard Castle." I announced turning on a full watt smile. "I have an appointment to see Mr Tisdale."

The girl behind the desk smiled and consulted her list. She looked up and smiled even more.

"Yes, Mr Castle. Mr Tisdale is expecting you."

"Is he now?" Came a familiar voice.

I almost jumped out of my skin on hearing her. Turning around I saw a grinning Detective Beckett walk past holding up her badge as she headed for the lifts.

The unexpected appearance of the delightful Detective Beckett had me flummoxed. I stammered and stumbled over an explanation as to why she had found me at Tisdale's office. She reached the lifts and hit the up button before turning her head in my direction and lifted up an eyebrow.

"You coming?" She called out.

I nodded my thanks to the receptionist and trotted to catch up with Beckett.

Jonathan Tisdale's office was large, spacious, a lot of wood panelling that made it a little sombre looking and conservative. On a couple of coffee table-sized tables were scale models of developments that Tisdale's company were building. On the walls were large pictures of some of the skyscrapers that he had built. There was even a large portrait of Tisdale on the wall, a portrait taken a few years back, and a couple of smaller ones.

The man himself stood behind his desk. A tall man dressed in what I figured to be was a hand tailored grey Saville Row business suit. He looked gaunt and wan, no doubt still bereaving the loss of his daughter. However my keen observation did detect something else about the man, something I could not quite my finger on right that minute. I did notice also that from time to time he would touch his hair. Behind him was a floor to ceiling window with an absolutely spectacular bird's eye view of New York.

While Detective Beckett took the lead and asked the usual questions that police ask families of the victim. I took my time inspecting Tisdale's office. I kept an ear out to what Tisdale was saying; that people loved his daughter, all she ever wanted was to make the world a better place. Jonathan Tisdale got a little irritated having to repeat the same things he had told the first detective who had come to speak to him. Detective Beckett assured him that we were just following up but she said it in a sympathetic way that seemed to ease the grieving father.

That is the moment I decided to join in on the questioning.

"Did Allison know anybody who would profit from her death?" I asked.

I got a Beckett Death Glare for having the temerity to ask such a question.

"Mr Castle I maybe rich." Tisdale said stoically, "but my daughter was not. She abhorred money. What little she had she gave to charity."

"Thank you, Mr Tisdale." Detective Beckett intervened winding up the interview, turning to leave.

I then asked him that if Fortune Magazine's estimation of his net worth of around a hundred million was right. Tisdale replied that he did not check day to day. Was it in the ball park I then asked and he said that he had been lucky which means that Fortune magazine were not far wrong.

Detective Beckett shot me a glare that was both menacing and questioning at the same time. I ignored her and continued with my questions.

"What happens to all that money if something happens to you?" I asked.

I think the delightful Detective Beckett was ready to strangle me if the look she gave me was anything to go by. She hissed my name. Despite the bluntness of the question Jonathan Tisdale answered it. He said half his money went to his charitable foundation and the other half went to his children. There was a painful pause before he corrected himself. The other half of the money went to his son.

I thanked Tisdale for his time and headed for the exit. It was a tense couple of minutes riding down the elevator. The delightful Detective Beckett was positively seething at the seemingly crass questions I had asked up in Tisdale's office. I did not need to ask what was bothering her because she was thinking it very loudly. Ah but there was method to my madness.

Once we hit the street did she release the pent up anger and she rounded on me.

"What was that all about?" She demanded angrily.

"He's dying." I informed her.

"Who's dying? Tisdale?"

I spotted a hot dog vendor a short distance away and started moving towards it.

"You want a hot dog? I want a hot dog." I said eagerly. I turned to look at her. "What do you take on your..."

I never got to finish the question. With lightning fast, ninja-like speed, the delightful Detective Beckett reached out and grabbed hold of my nose between her thumb and forefinger. She gave my nose a painful twist. My eyes started watering immediately as my legs started to buckle under that painful, very painful tweak. I was calling out my safe word like you would not believe.

"What makes you think he's dying." Beckett asked, still holding onto my nose.

"Okay." I gasped.

Mercifully Detective Beckett released my now throbbing proboscis. I reached up with my hand to rub the pain and to make sure my nose was still attached to my face. Okay, note to self, do not mess with Detective Beckett or she will use her ninja skills on you. I bet she'd look absolutely smoking hot in one of those black cat suits? But I digress.

"You see those pictures in his office?" I said.

"Yeah."

"He's much thinner now. Like sick thin not work thin." I pointed out.

"His daughter was just murdered..."

"And the way he was touching his hair. Like he was self-conscious."

"You think it's a piece?" Detective Beckett said, surprised.

Yeah, I thought it was a hair piece, a pretty good one. Having a mother in the Thespian world I have become very familiar with costumes and makeup. I also told the delightful Detective Beckett some of my other observations. That Tisdale was wearing make up and that he had undergone chemo therapy only recently.

"He's trying to look healthier than he is." Detective Beckett surmised.

"Doesn't want his shareholders to know." I added.

"So he's got cancer. That doesn't mean he's terminal." Beckett pointed out.

I could not help but grin at her. "But it's a much better story if he is."

Beckett thought it over a moment and then nodded her head in agreement.

"Did you interview the brother?" I inquired.

"There was never a reason to."

"Well now there is." I concluded.

I treated the delightful Detective Beckett to a hot dog before we made our way over to Allison Tisdale's brother's place of work.

XXXXX

_**Thank you everyone who has put this story onto your favourite or author alert list.**_

_**As always your thoughts on this humble effort would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Case of Flowers For Your Grave

Part 4

By the time we reached Harrison Tisdale's place of business the throbbing pain in the tip of my nose had faded and more than a little relieved to know that it remained well and truly attached to my face. Harrison Tisdale was standing in the loading dock of the warehouse overseeing the loading of a couple of trucks. He looked like a cop directing traffic. After introducing ourselves and the reasons for being there Harrison escorted us up to his office.

The office was small and functional. There were a couple of desks that were littered with invoices and bills of layding and an assortment of other documents. One the walls were whiteboards with routing information written on them. There was even a tatty looking calendar featuring a bored looking model.

Harrison Tisdale gave us the usual guff about how he last seen his sister about a month ago at their father's place, how every one loved his sister, and how she wanted to see the best in people. He added that Allison even wanted to see the best in that kid that had killed her.

Detective Beckett and I learned that his sister had brought Kyle around to see if Harrison could give him a job. In answer to a question from Detective Beckett, Harrison said that he did not give Kyle a job because if one of his employees messed up he would lose money. Then he lamented that perhaps if he had given the kid a job things might have turned out different.

"How did your sister react when your Dad told you he was dying?" Detective Beckett asked.

I could not help but notice the look of surprise that crossed Harrison's face. Surprise that we knew about his father. He quickly covered up the look of surprise. If I had noticed it, you can bet your bottom dollar the delightful Detective Beckett had caught it too.

"She was upset." Harrison said. "We both were."

"Now that she's dead, your inheritance stands to double." I said.

This time I did not get a hiss from Detective Beckett.

"What are you suggesting?" Harrison said angrily. "You already caught the killer."

"Yeah we did." Detective Beckett said smoothly. "But first thing his lawyers will do is to shift suspicion to someone else. Someone with motive. And they'll stick me on the stand and ask me why I didn't investigate, and then the jury will have doubts. And we don't them to have doubts, do we?"

Oh, she was good. Real good. I could not help but be impressed with Detective Beckett. The sudden flare of anger that Harrison displayed settled and he agreed with her.

"So, you'll have to excuse me for asking." Detective Beckett said. "Where were you on the night of your sister's murder?"

"I was travelling on business." Harrison informed us. "Actually, I was out of the country for all three murders."

I watched Harrison as he made his way over to his desk and pulled out a passport. I watched trying to cover the look of disappointment I suddenly felt. I was so sure it was Harrison who was the murderer but now he had an alibi. I couldn't believe it.

Casting a look in Detective Beckett's direction she did not seem too perturbed as she inspected the passport that Harrison had handed over. Perhaps she was used to having suspects providing alibis that cleared them. Maybe cops get training for that, I don't know but I was really annoyed that Harrison had an alibi.

As we walked back to Detective Beckett's car I let loose my frustration.

"A U.S. Passport?" I said.

"Completely unassailable." Detective Beckett replied.

"I sure it was him!"

"Don't take it so hard. After all you're just a writer."

There was a smug look on Detective Beckett's face and a gleam in her eyes when she said that, it immediately caught my attention.

"What?"

"Nothing." Beckett shook her head but the smug look remained.

My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. "What?"

"Oh, come on. He's lying." Detective Beckett announced. "I mean, I get him knowing where he was the night of his sister's murder, but the other two victims? He didn't pause. He didn't ask for dates. He didn't even check his calendar, but he was ready with an alibi. In my experience, innocent people do not prepare alibis."

I quickly replayed in my head the scene back in Harrison's office. Beckett was right. The bereaved sibling had quick as a shot said that he had been out of the country for all three murders. I had missed it, sailed right past it but Detective Beckett had not. My face suddenly brightened as I trotted to catch up with the delightful Detective Beckett.

"So I was right!" I exclaimed happily. That remark earned me an eye roll and shake of the head from Detective Beckett.

xxx

On the car ride back to the precinct we started bickering, she and I would say we were having a conversation but to any outside observer they would have described it as bickering. Despite my best efforts, the delightful Detective Beckett refused to concede that I had been right.

Even in the bullpen while we tried to break Harrison's alibi, checking dates and flights and so on, Detective Beckett continued to refuse to concede that I had been right all along.

"Why can't you just admit I was right?" I pleaded.

"Because he totally fooled you." Detective Beckett retorted. She looked at Detective Esposito who was standing at her desk and added, "He totally bought the alibi."

"I had a fleeting moment of self doubt." I said, with all the dignity I could muster in the face of this humiliation.

Thankfully this game of poke fun at the writer ended when Detective Ryan finished his telephone call and reported that Harrison's credit card company confirmed that he had bought three round trip tickets and the dates coincided with the three murders.

I had another moment of self doubt. Now I wasn't right? Detective Beckett assuaged my moment of self doubt by coolly saying the passport stamps had been forged. So I was right! Detective Esposito was ready to get a hold of passport control but a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"That's not how he would have done it." I announced.

"You got a better idea, Rickkie?" Detective Beckett asked smugly.

"A second passport."

That got everyone's attention. I was pleased to see the smugness gone from the delightful Detective Beckett's face.

"And how would he get one of those?" She asked.

"With his money?" I chuckled. "Trust me, on the black market it'd be a piece of cake."

"So he leaves the country on his own. Comes back with the other passport, commits murder, flies out, and then comes back in on his own." Detective Beckett theorised.

"Perfect alibi, perfect murder." I added.

"But almost impossible to prove." Beckett sighed.

"Unless you find the second passport." I pointed out.

"He's got to be freaked out after your little meet and greet." Detective Ryan interjected.

Suddenly Detective Beckett was all business. She ordered Detectives Ryan and Esposito to keep eyeballs on him and if Harrison moved she wanted to know immediately. She was off down the hall with me on her heels. She pulled out her phone and put it to her ear.

"Judge Markway, please." She announced.

On hearing who Detective Beckett was calling I asked her to say hello from me. I earned yet another eye roll for that.

xxx

Judge Markway is a man short in stature but a giant of the judicial bench. Balding, with a slender build he has a serious mien when he presides on the bench and can put the fear of God into lawyers and defendants who come before him.

We met several years ago at a charity function hosted by Bob Wheldon and became friends and occasional poker buddies and golfing partners.

I have to tell you one thing about Judge Markway, he has this great party trick that never fails to leave us rolling on the ground with laughter. Get a couple of drinks into him and he will do a great Homer Simpson impersonation. I mean it so spot on it's uncanny. He's scarily good. If Judge Markway ever decided to give away the legal profession he would make a fortune doing voice overs.

Anyway, I digress.

The reason Detective Beckett and I were paying Judge Markway a visit at his place of work was so that we could obtain his signature on a search warrant for Harrison Tisdale's place and office. We caught the judge making his way to his courtroom, he was running late for the next session. He and I got to talking about one of our favourite past times, golf, and in particular our favourite course. I was surprised to hear him say they had closed the course and were redoing the entire back nine. Detective Beckett who was walking beside us, listening as the judge and I caught up had finally had enough and jumped in.

"Judge, I hate to break up Golf Digest, but I have an exigent situation here."

"Very well, Detective, play through." Judge Markway replied.

"We need a search warrant." I said. Catching the glare Detective Beckett shot me, I quickly corrected myself. "She needs a search warrant."

"For the home and office of Harrison Tisdale." Detective Beckett informed him.

"Harrison Tisdale?" Judge Markway said in surprise. "As in, Jonathan Tsidale's son?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, He murdered his sister, killed two other people to cover up the crime." I interjected excitedly.

"Murder? The Tisdale's? You better be long and straight on this one, Detective." Judge Markway warned.

Detective Beckett informed the judge about Jonathon Tisdale being terminally ill. This piece of news shocked the judge. He mentioned that he had seen Jonathan Tisdale just recently at a charity benefit. I hoped he had taken a picture, I quipped. Beckett added that with the sister out of the way, Harrison would inherit all the money. Before she could add anything further she got called away by her ringing telephone.

I took up where the delightful Detective Beckett had left off telling the judge there was a sordid twisted emotional angle involved here that I did not want to bore him with the details. But it had to do with family and vengeance. All very Shakespearian.

Detective Beckett returned to inform us that Harrison had just left work. Going home to destroy the evidence I suggested. In answer to a question about being able to tie him to the other two victims Beckett assured the judge that Harrison could be tied to them through the man he had tried to frame, a patient of his sister's. With some reluctance Judge Markway signed the warrant while bemoaning that it was days like this that he wished he was back in Civil Division.

xxx

There were several squad cars parked out the front of Harrison Tisdale's apartment when Beckett and I arrived. A couple more car loads of detectives and uniforms joined the party. I was filled with a sense of excitement at the prospect of being in on the arrest of a triple murderer.

Detective Beckett got out of her car and joined the detectives congregating on the side walk.

"What have we got?" She asked.

Detective McNulty stepped up and reported what he had managed to find. Detective Beckett had tasked him with digging into Harrison Tisdale's financials. McNulty informed us that Harrison's business was going under. Basically Harrison was tens of millions in debt.

"With his sister's share of the Tisdale fortune, he stands to pay off the debt and then some." I remarked.

Detective Beckett turned to look at me and suggested that if I was going to go in with them I should be armed. I could not argue with her about that. She told me that her back up piece was in the glove box.

Like a kid in a candy store I turned back to the car. Holding onto the open door I reached in, opened the glove box and began to rummage through the assorted and accumulated junk that resided in there. I might have found a lost city of the Incas and a kitchen sink amongst that junk but there was no gun.

I was about to inform Detective Beckett that I could not find her back up piece when I felt the cold embrace of steel around my wrist. The delightful Detective Beckett had handcuffed me to the car door! I could not believe it. She had handcuffed me to the car door. I looked at her smiling face with a degree of shock.

"This time you're staying put." She informed me.

"Okay Beckett. Very funny." I said sourly.

With a brief flash of a smile, Detective Beckett and her colleagues raced around the corner and entered Harrison Tisdale's building. The laughter of the other detectives and uniforms who had witnessed this little episode still rang in my ears. It wasn't all that funny I wanted to tell them but they were all gone.

I may not have been a boy scout but that does not mean I don't come prepared. As a result of an episode in the not too distant past that I don't want to talk about, that involved me being handcuffed to a bedpost I had started to keep a handcuff key in my wallet. As they say, 'cuff me once shame on you, cuff me twice shame on me'.

It took me several moments to extract my wallet from my back pocket. I removed the key from the wallet dumping the wallet on the seat. I was all ready to slide the key into the lock when the damn thing slipped from my fingers to land on the ground a couple of feet away just out of reach.

I stretched out my leg trying to get my booted foot on the key and pulling it towards me but that idea wasn't working. I quickly discarded that idea and had to think up another idea. It came to me. I removed my boot and sock tried to grab the errant key with my toes. It took a couple of frustrating attempts but eventually my toes were able to grab hold of the key.

As I slipped the key into the lock a loud noise distracted me. Looking down the alley and saw Harrison Tisdale emerge from a window and start to make his way down the fire escape he was carrying a large trash bag with him.

I released myself from the handcuff that was a round the window, grabbed my boot, hoping to get the chance to put it on and set off down the alley after the fleeing Harrison. I had enough presence of mind to reach for my phone and call Detective Beckett to inform her that Harrison escaping down the fire escape.

I picked up speed which was not easy considering I was wearing only one boot, the other one was still in my hand. Harrison hit the ground in the alley. The bag he had with him had snagged on the fire escape and tore open spilling the shredded evidence all over the place. He saw me steaming towards him and he took to his heals leaving the bag behind. I heard the delightful Detective Beckett calling on Harrison to stop. Needless to say he did not heed Beckett's order. A big mistake. The next thing I heard was Beckett calling me.

"Castle, No!"

I too did not heed her warning. My thoughts were on catching the bad guy who was trying to escape from the hand of the law. As I was running down the alley I realised that I looked a little silly holding my boot. I tossed it aside and continued after Harrison. He rounded a corner into another alley and I followed.

There was a van sitting in the middle of the alley which forced me to slow down. I slid past the van and started to moved forward, there was a gate in front of me. Suddenly from what appeared out of nowhere Harrison jumped out with gun drawn and grabbed me from behind. This was definitely not the way I had written the scene in my head as I chased him down the alley. Oops.

He pulled me back in the little corner hidey hole where he had been waiting.

Above the sound of our panting breaths I heard another sound. That of high heels on concrete. No guesses as to who was coming. Before I could say anything Harrison jumped out from behind the corner. Harrison was using me as a shield. Beckett was beside the van with gun drawn and pointed at Harrison and myself.

"Stay back." Harrison shouted, desperation colouring his voice. "Don't come any closer."

"Put down the gun!" Beckett shouted.

For a few tense moments the conversation, if you could call it that way, involved Harrison saying to Detective Beckett to stay back and not come any closer, Detective Beckett shouting back for him to put the gun down, and me throwing out a few 'easy, easys' and a couple of 'okays' in an effort to calm him down and hoping that he did not do anything stupid—like shooting me.

"Castle, you okay?" Beckett called out.

I was touched by her note of concern.

"Yeah." I called out. "But psycho here needs a breath mint."

So, okay, this may not be in the playbook of trying to calm down a desperate killer holding you hostage with a gun but he really did need a breath mint. Talk about bad breath, Harrison could have felled a buffalo with that breath. Glancing at the gun Harrison was holding I noticed something that allowed me to relax a little despite the tension convention in the alley.

"Shut up." Harrison snapped at my remark.

"You know what's bugging me?" I said to Harrison. "If you were that deep in debt why didn't you ask your father for the money?"

"Castle, you're not helping!" Beckett shouted.

"You know what I think?" I continued, ignoring Beckett's admonishment. "I think you did ask. I think you asked but he said no. I think he always said no. A self-made man like that, I bet he thought you were weak for asking."

"He's the one who was weak." Harrison snarled angrily. "I was trying to make something of my life, and all he cared about was her!"

"That's why you killed her. It wasn't just for the money." I surmised. "You wanted to punish him before he died, take away the only thing he loved. That's a pretty good story."

Harrison faltered a little at what I had said. He could not help himself but asked who I was. Detective Beckett chose that moment to call out to Harrison that it was all over and to let me go.

Harrison needless to say, had other ideas. He was not ready to let me go. He shouted at the delightful Detective Beckett to drop her gun or he swore he would kill me. At least that is what I thought he was going to say. I didn't like that one little bit and so I didn't let him finish that sentence.

Instinctively I lifted my elbow and smashed it into Harrison's face. The force of the blow dislodged the gun he was holding and I reached out and snatched it away from him. I don't know who was more surprised at this sudden turn of events, me or Detective Beckett. Harrison had crumpled to the ground in a heap from the blow to the face so his thoughts on the matter didn't really count.

Detective Beckett swiftly moved from her spot beside the van to restrain the prone Harrison Tisdale.

"Tell me you saw that?" I shrieked as I held Harrison's gun. "You're going to put that in your report, right?"

The Delightful Detective Becket was too busy turning Harrison face down on the ground and putting his arms behind his back to respond to my questions. She held out her hand for the handcuffs. I eagerly passed them over and she snapped them around Harrisons' wrists. Once he was secured the delightful Detective Beckett turned her attention to me. She shoved me against the wall.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she said angrily. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

I could not help but laugh. "Well, the safety was on the whole time." I told her.

The delightful Detective Beckett rolled her eyes at me. You know I was starting to enjoy the way she rolled her gorgeous hazel eyes at me.

"You know, you could have told me." She huffed.

"Where's the fun in that?" I chuckled. That remark earned me another eye roll but she did not seem too angry at what had happened if the small smile on her face anything to go by.

xxx

I was standing on the street, in the distance were parked several police cars their lights flashing. I had just finished giving my statement to one of the detectives. More than likely I would be called in later to give a more comprehensive statement. I was standing there feeling a little euphoric at having captured, okay, having helped capture a murderer. It was such a rush. There was a buzz coursing through my veins the likes of which I had never before experienced.

I saw a pair of uniforms emerge from the alley and escort Tisdale toward one of the squad cars. Harrison did not look best pleased, that was understandable considering he was facing life in jail for having killed three people.

Detective Beckett emerged from the alley. She had removed the jacket she had been wearing previously and was only in a plain shirt. She saw me standing by myself and approached me. I gave her a smile which she returned.

"Well, I guess this is it." She said.

"It doesn't have to be. We could go to dinner, debrief each other." I offered.

"Why, Castle? So I could be one of your conquests?" Detective Beckett challenged, the smile on her face growing a little more.

"Or I could be one of yours." I said, hopefully.

Yeah, okay. Yeah, I'll be blunt. I wanted to wine and dine Detective Beckett and then go to bed with her. What red blooded male wouldn't? I mean she so smoking hot. And at this moment I was not above dropping to my knees and begging, let me tell you.

There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes as she regarded me. Perhaps she was able to read my thoughts. I wasn't exactly going out of my way to hide it.

"It was nice meeting you, Castle."

"Too bad." I sighed. "It would have been great."

Detective Beckett's eyes sparkled even more and she bit on her lip as she moved up to me. She leaned close and whispered in my ear in what I could only describe as her bedroom voice.

"You have no idea." She purred.

The sound of her voice and soft caress of her warm breath against my ear turned my insides into mush and rendered me speechless. I could only stand there smiling as I watched her turn and walk away. There was a sassy, sexy swing to her hips as she walked and I could not help but think that she exaggerated it a little for my benefit. The smile on my face grew wider.

I don't know how long I stood there, perhaps a few minutes perhaps a few hours. Time seemed to have stood still. Detective Kate Beckett had stormed and occupied my mind. What I can recall is that it was in that moment I knew that I had found my new character for the next book.

The minute I returned home and had regained some semblance of normality I made a call to Bob and begged and pleaded with him to let me ride along with a certain female detective. Bob was only too happy to facilitate the request. He knew that I would write a book that would be good publicity for New York and in particular the NYPD. After that phone call I turned my attention to my laptop. I powered it up, opened a new document and began to write.

I wrote for hours on end with a passion that I had not experienced for a couple of years, sketching scenes, outlining potential plots, building dialogue, creating the character who would become even bigger that Derrick Storm. And all through that night as I wrote page after page, Detective Kate Beckett remained in the forefront of my mind.

I must impart an amusing post script following the successful resolution to the case. It happened the following day after the case was closed. The mayor had come through for me far quicker than even I had expected. So I found myself once more in Captain Montgomery's office. He seemed happy enough for me to tag alongside Detective Beckett for research purposes. I had to step out of the office to take a call and as I was returning I paused just outside the office.

The delightful Detective Beckett had stepped in having responded to the Captain's summons.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yeah, I just got a call from the mayor's office." Captain Montgomery informed her. "Apparently you have a fan."

That was putting it mildly but I was happy to go with it.

"A fan, sir?" Detective Beckett said hesitantly.

"Rick Castle. Seems he's found the main character for his set of next novels, a tough but savvy female detective."

He forgot to add, _smoking hot_ but I was happy enough to let that go.

"I'm flattered?"

The delightful Detective Beckett did not sound flattered right that minute. Cautious and wary, yes.

"Don't be." Captain Montgomery said. "He says he has to do research."

Suddenly Detective Beckett twigged.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No way." Detective Beckett said firmly.

"Beckett, listen. He..."

"Sir, he's like a nine year old on a sugar rush," Detective Beckett complained. "Totally incapable of taking anything seriously."

A nine year old on a sugar rush, huh? That was probably one of the nicest things she had said about me. Certainly it is one of my endearing qualities, that and my ruggedly handsomeness.

"But he did help solve the case." Captain Montgomery pointed out.

That particular point pulled up Detective Beckett short. I did help to solve the case not to mention, participate in the apprehension of the murderer. Becoming the involuntary hostage had not been part of the plan, but hey, it turned out well.

"Look, Beckett." Captain Montgomery continued. "When the Mayor's happy, the commissioner's happy. And when the commissioner's happy, I'm happy."

"How long sir?" Detective Beckett asked her voice heavy with resignation.

That was the moment I chose to make an appearance. I leaned in the door way fixing a big grin upon my ruggedly handsome face. Captain Montgomery nodded over Detective Beckett's shoulder.

"Well that's up to him." He said.

The delightful Detective Beckett turned around and found me leaning in the open doorway grinning like the cat that had gotten the cream. Detective Beckett glared at me. I could not help it but I waggled my eyebrows at her. She only glared even more at me.

Under Detective Beckett's angry glare I was reminded of the words of Rick Blaine to Captain Renault as they walked off into the night at the end of _Casablanca_. 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship'.

Little did I realise how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

XXXXX

_**There you go dear reader the final instalment of the first case. I hope you enjoyed it. I would really to know what you thought of that effort.**_

_**Con **_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Case Of Nanny McDead

Part 1

My first day as an official tag along for research purposes did not start the way I had envisaged. Well not all of it anyway.

I got up bright and early with a bounce in my step and an excited smile on my face. Some might say that there might have been a song in my heart as well. Perhaps. I even managed to surprise my daughter Alexis by having breakfast ready and waiting for her by the time she made an appearance. It is not unusual for me to make breakfast for her, I manage to do it on a regular basis and have done so for many years. When Alexis had been younger I would always be the first one up and about to get her ready for school. I think what was different on this particular morning was that my excitement level had been turned up to eleven. It was something that did not fail to escape Alexis' notice. Nor mother's for that matter when she made her entrance.

I could not help but feel excited on this morning. It was the day I would begin researching my new book with the NYPD. What I did not say to the two red heads, most of the day would be spent alongside a certain female detective. I suspect mother had an inkling of the reason for my increased level of excitement but wisely chose to keep that particular thought to herself.

Mother however did make a crack about wishing I had shown this level of excitement on my first day of school. I came back with the quip about which school? I had been to so many that it had been hard to maintain any level of excitement.

Mother said that she would be spending the day shopping with a couple of friends. There was a glint in her eye when she said that which had me thinking my bank account would be suffering a significant dent in it. But it did not matter, not on this day. On this particular day Mother could have run up a debt that could have put some third world country to shame and I would not have cared.

Alexis and I shared a cab.

I arrived at the ground floor lobby of the 12th Precinct right at the appointed time. Those who know me best would have been astonished to discover I had arrived promptly. I'm not the most prompt of people when it comes to appointments. My publicist Paula could give you chapter and verse the number of times I have arrived late to meetings or other appointments. Gina, ex-wife number two, could add a gospel or two as well.

I was met in the lobby of the 12th by a still less than impressed Detective Kate Beckett. I could tell she was there under sufferance. I had expected to be given a quick and perfunctory orientation tour of the precinct and then we would end up in the Homicide bullpen with me sitting in a chair next to Detective Beckett's desk ready to solve the latest murder case the good detective had caught.

To try and remove the disapproving look that threatened to take up permanent residence on Detective Beckett's face I made a wisecrack about hoping this experience would be good for her as it would be for me. Detective Beckett did not crack a smile, all I got for my less than subtle innuendo was a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. It was good to see that some things did not not change.

Imagine my disappointment when I did not get the quick and perfunctory orientation tour of the precinct. Nor did I get to sit down beside Detective Beckett's desk ready to observe and hopefully assist her with her latest case. I got none of that. Apparently Beckett was between cases.

The delightful Detective Beckett instead escorted me to a small out of the way corner office on the first floor of the building where I found waiting for me a short rotund man who masqueraded as a NYPD lawyer. I might be a little harsh about the man. I'm sure he passed law school and is loved by his family and friends.

The lawyer whose name escapes me even now, and who I never saw again after this meeting, greeted me in that humourless perfunctory way most lawyers who were never able to reach the stellar heights of the Johnny Corchorans and Rudi Giulianis of this world. He showed me to the visitors' chair and then proceeded to bury me in a ton of paperwork.

Detective Beckett had taken up station off to the side by the window, a front row seat to watch as I was confused by the legal gobbleygook. I'm sure she was trying hard not to smile at my misery or was she wishing for a bucket off popcorn.

I was all for putting my John Hancock on whatever dotted line was shoved under my nose and initial wherever an x had been placed but Lawyer Guy had other ideas. Lawyer Guy insisted on reading out the agreement and waiver forms so that I understood what I was getting into.

"Mr Castle, be advised, if you get injured following Detective Beckett to research your next novel,"

Lawyer Guy had the kind of coma inducing voice that reminded me of that teacher from the movie _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. You know the one... "Bueller...Bueller..." Do they teach that at Lawyer School I wonder?

"You can not sue the city." Lawyer Guy intoned, or should that be droned?. "If you get shot you cannot sue the city. If you get killed..."

"My lifeless remains cannot sue the city?" I asked.

"Your, heirs, Mr Castle." Lawyer Guy corrected in a monotone.

When I had made that quip I had glanced in the direction of Detective Beckett and saw her roll her eyes in response.

"Do I have to wait for him to sign or can I shoot him now?" Detective Beckett queried.

I could not help but smile at her remark.

"Mr Castle, these waivers are serious business." Lawyer Guy said. The humour seemed to have flown right over his head. I was convinced he had undergone a humourectomy when he had been at law school. "Perhaps, Mr Castle, you would feel more comfortable by referring the matter to your attorney?"

"Are you kidding?" I laughed. "He'd never let me sign these. But fortunately, it's his job to get me out of trouble, not prevent me from getting into it."

The job getting into trouble was something that I was very capable of doing all on my own and my lawyer guy was equally adept of getting me out of it. It was a nice arrangement and he had managed to put a couple of his kids through school as a result of my past misdemeanours and indiscretions.

Detective Beckett's phone suddenly sprang into life. I looked over at her longingly, hoping that she had caught a case. From the look on her face it appeared that she did. She told the caller that she was on her way. She eased herself from where she had perched herself and made for the door.

I was suddenly eager to launch myself out the door but was told I had to remain here and sign all the waiver forms. She gave me a sympathetic look as she backed out of the office. Yeah, right. It was a mocking look that I got from her as she closed the door in my face.

I have never autographed documents so fast in all my life. My signature was more scrawl than autograph. I practically threw the signed waivers at Lawyer Guy. I shook his hand, thanked him profusely and flew out the door.

In her haste to leave me in the clerical clutches of Lawyer Guy the delightful Detective Beckett had neglected to inform me where the location of the murder was. I was a little put out about that but it did not last too long. I was in a forgiving mood this particular day.

I ended up on the Homicide floor looking a little lost and a touch forlorn. Captain Montgomery spotted me and took pity when I told him what had happened. He informed me about the dead nanny found in a spin dryer. My eyes lit up with excitement. Before I had a chance to beg him, the good Captain gave me the address to the murder scene. I thanked him and raced to the lifts.

xxx

Not having access to a police car I was forced to use my own devices. Out the front of the precinct I hailed down a cab and jumped in. I gave the driver the address. I also told him to step on it. The driver, a bearded, turbaned gentlemen of the Sikh persuasion, no doubt a recent immigrant to these shores, looked at me somewhat quizzically. For a moment I thought he had not understood me. I added that his tip would be greatly increased if he could get me to my destination in the quickest possible time. A big understanding smile broke across his bearded dusky face. His head bobbed up and down several times punctuated with several "yes, sirs, very good sirs". The next moment he gunned the engine and then threw the cab into the traffic.

The street out the front of the apartment building was crowded with a number of police cars, marked and unmarked not to mention the ME's van and a couple of others. I had half expect to find the building sealed off with police tape but I had been wrong with that assumption. A uniform officer was stationed by the front doors and when I approached he asked what my business was.

I informed him that I was with Detective Beckett. That seemed to be the passport that gained me entrance. The uniform allowed me through. I went over to the reception desk where the doorman was standing. At my approach the doorman's sombre looking face brightened.

Jorge, that was the doorman's name, was a native son of Bolivia who had come to New York to seek his fortune. Aged in his mid twenties of medium build he had a friendly face. It turned out Jorge was a fan of my books, using them to improve his English. He was very excited to meet his favourite author. I was pleased to meet another enthusiastic fan of my work. For the price of an autograph Jorge was able to give me a run down on the victim and the people she nannied for, and what apartment they were.

You would be amazed the amount of information you can extract from a doorman. The really good ones never fail to miss anything. They see everything and hear everything. Jorge had added that the police had been down there in the laundry for a while. I thanked Jorge for his information and made my way to the lifts.

For a moment I thought about going down to the laundry and surprise the delightful Detective Beckett but the next moment I changed my mind and pushed the up button. A better idea came to me. I would wait for Detective Beckett up on the twelfth floor where the apartment was located of the family the nanny had worked for.

I might have been waiting for maybe ten minutes, maybe more maybe less, I was not exactly watching the clock. I knew that Detective Beckett would have to come up and interview the family the dead girl worked for. The arrival of the lift to the floor was announced by the single peel of the bell above the elevator.

I assumed a nonchalant pose leaning against the wall right in front of the elevator and fixed an easy going grin on my face.

The elevator doors slid open and there stood the delightful Detective Beckett. She was looking down at the ground and was startled to find me standing before me. The grin on my face increased in silent greeting.

"Thought you ditched me back at the precinct, didn't you?" I chided gently as I eased myself off the wall. I grinned even more. "Come on. Nanny McDead is found on spin dry. You don't think the Captain is going to let me in on the story?"

Beckett stepped out of the elevator trying hard not to let what she was really thinking about finding me here to show on her face.

"You're right, Castle." She said. "My bad."

Beckett turned and started walking along the hall. She had gone barely a few feet when I made a loud clearing of my throat sound. She stopped and turned back to look at me. I gestured with my hand in the opposite direction indicating the apartment she was seeking in this direction. She pursed her lips and came back. I fell into step beside her.

"Exactly how much longer do I have to expect you to be shadowing me on cases like this?" Detective Beckett inquired.

"Hard to say." I replied. "When I'm writing a new character, there's no telling when inspiration might strike."

"I thought I was your inspiration?"

"Oh you are, Detective." I said flashing a leering smile as I looked at her. "And in so many ways."

Did I mention that the delightful Detective Beckett had visited my dreams once again last night? Well she did...and no, it's not what you think. There was clothing involved this time, as well a lot of hot and heavy kissing, and fondling...but I digress.

"Yeah, well then your inspiration might strike you sooner than you think." Detective Beckett warned casting a half arched eyebrow in my direction. I did not fail to catch the meaning of what she had thrown at me. I was rather amused by it.

We reached the door to apartment 12-F and Beckett knocked on the door. I informed Detective Beckett that the dead nanny's name was Sara Manning. She had worked for the Peterson family for about two years. Beckett turned her head to give a silent questioning look. I explained that the information had come from the doorman who just happened to be a huge fan of my work.

I was kind of hoping that I had impressed Detective Beckett with my briefing. If it had made an impression on her it did not show on her face. A real tough audience I figured but not to worry, I am persistent if anything, I would wear her down sooner or later.

The door opened to reveal Claudia Peterson. She was a woman in her mid to late thirties with straw coloured hair. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and a silk blouse that said 'professional'. She seemed a little short but that was explained when I glanced down at her feet and saw that she was barefoot. She would have been the kind of woman who would wear high heels to give her a bit of height and authority. Just like someone else I could mention but wont. Now that Mrs Peterson was ensconced in hearth and home the need for heels was not required.

Detective Beckett flashed her badge and introduced herself requesting if she could ask a few questions about Sara Manning. Claudia consent and beckoned her into her home. I introduced myself as Richard Castle just...NY.

In the living room we met Claudia's husband, Howard a tall man in his early forties. Claudia took a moment to send her son, Justin to his room telling the child that mommy and daddy had to speak some people. When Claudia came to sit on on the couch beside her husband she looked a little apologetic explaining that they had yet to tell their son about what had happened to Sara, adding that they did not know how.

Both husband and wife were still in a state of shock at the news of Sara's death that was plain enough to see on their faces. Howard said that Sara was very close to their son and that she had a way with kids, a gift is what he called it. Claudia added that Sara was such a lovely girl.

Claudia went also to say that her son's school had called her when Sara hadn't come to pick him up. She had tried calling Sara's cell phone but it went straight to voice mail, she had also tried calling their home here but the answer machine had picked up. Claudia had been forced to grab a cab go to the school to pick up Justin, her son. When they had arrived home they found the police already here.

In response to a question from Detective Beckett about when she had seen Sara last, Claudia explained that it had been her husband Howard who had seen Sara last when he had come home. Howard jumped in to inform us that He or Claudia would take Justin to school so no one is home when Sara arrived.

"And what time is that?" Detective Beckett asked.

"Today, it would have been eleven." Claudia replied. "Sara straightens up, does Justin laundry and then picks him up from school about two. One of us is home for dinner. Last night it was my husband's turn."

Detective Beckett turned her gaze to Howard.

"So you were the last one to see Sara?"

"I guess so." Howard replied, trying not to look uncomfortable.

"Did she mention any problems she was having, maybe a boyfriend?" I asked, joining the interview for the first time. It earned me a look from Detective Beckett.

"Sara's boyfriend?" Claudia said cautiously.

"The doorman said the police told him it was a break in, which usually means a stranger did it."

Howard said.

"We can't be sure what happened." Detective Beckett said firmly.

"Well, maybe not, but statistically speaking, there is a much greater likelihood it was someone she knew." I pontificated casting a glance in Detective Beckett's direction.

"Oh my God." Claudia gasped in shock.

"Again." Detective Beckett said firmly, trying to hide her sudden irritation and shooting me a glare at the same time. "We can't be certain who was involved."

"But she had a boyfriend?" I persisted oblivious to the Death Glare being zeroed in on me.

"Brent. But they broke up." Howard informed us.

"And when was that?" I continued.

"About a month ago." Claudia added. "Sara never said there was any trouble or anything like that."

Beckett having confirmed the ex-boyfriend's name was Brent but neither Claudia or Howard were able to supply a surname to go with the first name. It appears that Sara had never mentioned it.

It was at that point that Detective Beckett decided to wind up the interview with the Patersons. I was taken aback by this decision. Before leaving though Detective Beckett did ask how she could contact Sara's parents. Again the Patersons were not able to help. All they could provide was the fact that her parents lived in Atlanta. Detective Beckett took possession of the few things that Sara had left at the Patersons, her bag and jacket.

In the elevator heading down Detective Beckett immediately did a search of Sara's bag. I was still a little surprised that Beckett had wound up the interviews with the Patersons so quickly.

"Why couldn't we stick around? I had a lot more questions." I told her.

"Because I actually like to investigate things myself first." Was the reply I received from the delightful Detective Beckett. "Besides, neither of them is going anywhere." She was still rummaging through Sara's bag.

"There's no cell phone in here." She announced.

"Maybe it's in the laundry room or in the dryer?" I suggested.

"Well, if it is CSU will find it."

Detective Beckett found a wallet in the bag. She opened it to reveal a Georgia license. A sad look swept across Beckett's face which I could not fail to notice. My annoyance at not being allowed to ask a few more questions of the Patersons was quickly forgotten.

"Are you really the one who has to call her parents?" I asked quietly.

Beckett gave me a crooked half smile.

"Easier to write about than to live through, huh, Castle?"

I can not even begin to imagine- and this is coming from a guy who makes a very good living by mining his imagination and turning it into words and stories-what it would be like having to pick up a phone, punch in a number, wait until the call is answered and then tell the person on the end of the line that their loved one, their child, has been found dead or murdered.

xxx

Returning to the precinct Beckett and I stepped out of the elevator and headed for the bullpen. Rounding the corner I saw Captain Montgomery along with Detectives Esposito and Ryan congregating around a computer monitor on a desk.

"Three men huddled around a computer, that better not be porn." I called out as Beckett and I approached. "And if it is, I want in."

Captain Montgomery straightened up.

"Esposito and Ryan pulled the security tape from the elevator in the rear entrance." Captain Montgomery said.

"Front entrance has a twenty-four hour doorman." Detective Ryan added.

We crowded around the monitor to view the video of inside the elevator and watched as Sara Manning rode down the elevator carrying a laundry basket in one shot. The next shot was of Sara getting into the elevator and riding it up back to the apartment. The next shot, as Detective Esposito pointed out, was taken forty minutes later when Sara rode the elevator down to the basement.

"The only other person to ride the elevator all the way down to the basement is the old lady who found the body." Detective Ryan reported.

I moved from that desk and sat myself down in the chair beside Detective Beckett's desk.

"So, whoever attacked her must have used the stairwell, otherwise we would have caught him." Detective Beckett said. Detective Ryan reached for a file on his desk.

"We got three maintenance guys on duty that day." He said consulting the file. "We'll run their names tonight."

"Why only run the workers name?" I asked. "Why not run all the neighbours' names?"

Four sets of eyes turned to look at me brimming with various levels of curiosity.

"What are you basing that on?" Detective Beckett challenged.

"I'm basing that on, the neighbour would make a better story." I grinned.

For that assertion I was rewarded with four people rolling their eyes at me. Detective Ryan even managed to release a little snigger of derision. I was undeterred by that lack of vote of confidence. I continued.

"No, come on. What do any of us know about our neighbours in this city?" I ventured. "You think the guy living next door to Son of Sam knew he was living next door to Son of Sam?"

That question did strike a cord, I noticed.

"He's right." Captain Montgomery agreed. "Neighbours in Berkowitz's building had no idea he was the Son of Sam killer."

"Thank you." I nodded. "What about the guy in 8-B?"

"Who?" Detective Beckett said, her face creasing into a small frown.

"8-B. Quiet guy. You see him every day, only you never notice him." I said, my voice dropping into book reading mode as I warmed to the task at hand. "But he noticed Sara. She's young, beautiful. The kind of girl that a guy like him would never have a chance with."

I could see that I had drawn them in. I turned to look at Beckett. A small smile rose to my lips.

"We all know girls like that, don't we?" I said.

Beckett gave me an eye roll and glanced at the other three men and found that the Captain as well as Esposito and Ryan were looking at her. She shook her head and turned back to me as I continued my story.

"At first it's just a game. Figure out her schedule. When does she do her laundry? When is she alone? Until it becomes something more, something he can't control."

I could see that I had them all in the palm of my hand. Even Detective Beckett. Mother would have been so proud of me if she could see me right now. She would be positively beaming to see how I had drawn my audience in. An audience of four to be sure but it did not matter whether it was an audience of four or four hundred or four thousand for that matter. I had weaved a story that had drawn in the people listening and it had got them to thinking. Standing in the wings of countless theatres watching performances or sitting front row centre of empty theatres watching rehearsals when I had been young had not gone to waste. I had managed to learn one or two of the tricks of her trade. I had not spent all of my youth creating mischief.

"Well, he uses the stairs, obviously, to avoid the elevator's cameras." I continued my voice almost a soft burr. "And then he just waits, concealed in the shadows. And when she comes into that laundry room, he pounces. When he looked into her vacant, lifeless eyes, he wanted to tell her, he never meant to kill her. All he ever wanted was to be noticed. That's when he felt the heat of that dryer on his skin. So, he picks up her limp body in his arms and gently places it inside. He almost smiled at his good fortune when he found the quarter in his pocket, slipping it into the slot. Buying the time to do what he does best...Disappear." My voice trailed off.

In the few moments that followed my solemn sounding story you could have heard a pin drop. Four eager, expectant looking faces stared at me as if they wanted to hear more of the story I had spun.

Suddenly my face brightened considerably as I jumped to my feet ending my messing with them.

"Just saying, better story." I said affably. "Coffee?"

Before I bounced away in the direction of the break room to get some coffee, I caught Detective Beckett trying to suppress a smile and failing. Her lips curved into a tight lipped smile that went all the way to her eyes that made them sparkle. The men on the other hand glared at me at having fooled them. Esposito's look held the promised of payback in the not too distant future.

As I walked away I heard Captain Montgomery ordering his detectives to find out about the neighbours. He growled out that someone had better tell him who lived in apartment 8-B.

XXXXX


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Case of Nanny McDead

Part 2

I returned to Casa Castle in the evening to find the light of my life, Alexis, cleaning dishes before setting them in the dishwasher. Arrayed across the island counter were plates of half eaten food. It was a mess. It looked like something out of a Roman emperor's banquet with only the Athenian dancing girls missing and debourched drunken senators littering the floor. It did not need a genius to figure out that Mother had done the cooking.

Greeting my daughter with a kiss I wondered where Hurricane Martha was. Alexis reported that her grandmother was in her room taking a dramatic pause. That would figure. Mother whips up a storm only to leave it to others to clean up the mess. I started pitching in gathering up left overs and placing them in plastic containers ready to be deposited in the fridge.

"If you're hungry, there are lots of leftovers." Alexis said with a laugh.

"I grabbed a slice on the way home." I informed her.

"You really are turning into a cop."

"Yeah? Do you think?" I asked grinning.

"So, who got killed today?"

"The nanny."

In response to Alexis' question about if the police knew who did it. I gave her my version of the response that Beckett had given me, that the police don't know who did it until they catch the guy.

Alexis paused in her cleaning up and turned to look at me with a curious look on her face.

"How come we never had a nanny?" She asked.

"Well your mother and I decided if someone was going to screw you up, we wanted it to be me." I replied. "Only you managed to turn out just fine somehow anyway."

"Surprisingly."

Truth be told there had never been any need to hire a nanny to look after Alexis. My work as a writer allowed me the flexibility to devote the time to be able to be there for her whenever and wherever she needed me. Taking her to school, picking her up from school, going the park. They remain some of the most fondest and treasured memories that I have. Don't get the idea, not for a second, that I was the perfect single father. I made more than my fair share of mistakes in raising her. Too many that I would care to mention. As I have said before, despite my best efforts Alexis has turned out pretty well.

My trip down memory came to a grinding halt with the entrance of Mother into the kitchen, calling me the prodigal son who had returned from working the nightshift.

"Catch any perps today, kiddo?" She asked. Before I had a chance to tell her, Mother continued. "I did an episode of NYPD Blue, remember?"

"You were the crazy homeless woman." Alexis said.

"And some might say, still are." I said as an aside.

Both red heads standing in the kitchen wisely chose to not comment on that remark. Alexis told her grandmother that she had been asking me about why she never had a nanny. I remarked that I had decided to spare my daughter stories of my own personal experience.

"I had a real job as a working actress." Mother said, throwing me a look. "You know, not everyone can sit at home in front of a laptop and claim to be employed."

"Really? You had a nanny?" Alexis said looking at me surprised.

"Yeah." I nodded my head. "Only we didn't call them nannies then."

"What were they called?"

"Oh I don't know." I shrugged as I looked across to Mother. "Alcoholics, raving lunatics? No, no, wait. Uh...completely irresponsible middle-aged women who, instead of looking after me while you were acting, like they were supposed to, instead watched daytime television."

Further discussion about the nannies that had been inflicted upon me in my younger years was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Pulling it out I noticed the caller ID and I could not help but break into a bright smile.

"Detective Beckett, did you miss me already?" I cooed into the phone.

I could picture the look of her rolling her eyes at me for my greeting. Needless to say Detective Beckett ignored my question and ploughed through to inform me that an autopsy was being conducted on Sara Manning. I checked my watch and saw the lateness of the hour.

"Do they do those at night?" I said. I assured her that I could make it. I then also told her that I was really touched that she thought of me. I laughed at her response. Apparently she had been ordered to call an invite me down for the autopsy. Well either way I informed her that I was on my way.

Before racing out of the loft I kissed both my daughter and mother leaving them to clean up the mess that had been Hurricane Martha.

xxx

The cab pulled out the front of the OCME building. I paid the driver and then thanked him for his story. I can't help it but I'm curious about peoples' stories and cab drivers always seem to have an interesting story to tell, also it helped to pass the time during the journey.

I got out of the cab and stared at the front entrance to the building wondering if the place would be open at this time of the night to members of the public. Several people emerged from the front doors and there was my answer. I bounded up the steps and made my way into the lobby.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the delightful Detective Beckett waiting for me in the reception area. She greeted me with a slightly raised eyebrow, and a small if brief smile. I'm sure she was surprised I had arrived there far quicker than she had been expecting.

All too soon she pulled on her 'serious' mask and was down to business. She tossed the empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can and motioned to me to follow as she headed for the elevators.

One thing I had noticed in my short time with the NYPD is that coffee seems to be the fuel that keeps the wheels turning. It has to be standard police issued equipment along with their guns, handcuffs, batons and notepads. I had always thought that coffee and police was an overused cliché in films and TV shows. Seems I thought wrong.

I had no idea how important coffee was to Detective Beckett and more to the point how very important coffee would become for me, to us. But that particular discovery was in the future.

Detective Beckett escorted me to the side room next to the examination room she pulled on a smock and told me to do the same. Then she passed over a pair of protective glasses.

"I thought cops just stood around the body eating ham sandwiches and cracking jokes." I said struggling into the smock that she had passed to me. "You know, hardcore gallows humour?"

Detective Beckett rolled her eyes and then shook her head before she put on her own pair of protective glasses and pushed through the double doors and entered the examination room. I quickly followed the Detective.

Doctor Lanie Parish was standing beside the exam table with a large clipboard on which she was making notes on. Laid out upon the table was the body of Sara Manning. A sheet had been pulled up to her chest. Peeking just above the sheet were the stitchings of the skin having been sewn up. My stomach seemed to unsettle a little at the sight of that.

I guess I was a little relived and at the same time a little disappointed the the autopsy had already been completed. I might write about murder and the macabre in vivid detail but I had never actually sat in on an autopsy. This would have been my first time. I have relied on ME reports and consulting with M.E.s and former M.E.s to ensure that I had gotten the details right. Up to now I don't think I had done too bad a job of it, if Dr Parish's praise was anything to go by.

Detective Beckett took up station at the foot of the examination table, a spot which afforded her a view of the body as well as seeing Dr Parish. I came to stand beside her.

"The head trauma definitely contributed to the death." Dr Parish announced without preamble. "The force of the blows resulted in significant cerebral haemorrhaging." Glancing up from her clipboard Dr Parish took note of my appearance in her exam room. "Mr Castle, nice to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, but my glasses are all scratchy." I replied. I pulled off the glasses and held them up to see all the lines and scratches that marked the surface. I returned them to my face.

"Not every one has your budget, Castle." Detective Beckett remarked before she turned to look at the Medical Examiner. "So what killed her?"

"I'd say she was struck in the head with the bleach bottle." Dr Parish reported, pointing to the bruising on Sara's head. "She fell forward, hit her temple on the edge of the table. That caused temporal bleeding."

Both Detective Beckett and I leaned a little closer to inspect the bruising to the head. Dr Parish turned to look at us. There a sad look on her face.

"Without medical attention, she did not stand chance."

What I got from the look on Dr Parish's face was that this was a needless death. Sara Manning might still be alive now if she had gotten medical attention. My stomach clenched at the thought that the killer had let her die. I did not get the opportunity to dwell on those thoughts as Dr Parish continued her briefing.

"What I thought you might find really interesting is the fact that she had sex within hours before her death."

"Sex?" Detective Beckett queried.

I leaned a little closer to Beckett. "I'll explain how that works later." I whispered sotto voce.

Detective Beckett rolled her eyes at my attempt to inject some humour into this sombre scene.

"Might have even been within a few minutes of the murder." Dr Parish said, shrugging her shoulders. "The heat from the dryer makes it hard to pinpoint."

"So you're saying she was raped?"

"Hard to determine. There were no vaginal lacerations or the presence of semen."

"So what is the evidence of sex?"

"Traces of spermicide." Dr Parish reported. "The guy wore a condom."

Detective Beckett frowned a little. I could not resist.

"Boy, it really has been a long time for you, hasn't it?" I quipped.

Detective Beckett turned and glared at me but said nothing. I noticed that the good doctor was trying ever so hard to keep a straight face. After a moment she managed to suppress the smile that had been threatening to break across her face.

"I mean, it could have been rape." Dr Parish said "But my best guess is..."

"She knew the guy." Detective Beckett interjected.

xxx

The following morning I found myself sitting in the bullpen with Detectives Beckett, Esposito and Ryan. The information that Sara Manning had sex prior to her death and that she might have known her killer had started a discussion. I felt kind of privileged to be able to witness these detectives as they nutted out theory as they worked to find the killer of Sara Manning.

"Without evidence of trauma," Beckett declared, "I'm not ready to buy our attacker is a sexual predator, especially with him using a condom."

"Could be he's trying to hide his DNA." Detective Esposito suggested.

"Dude, someone smart enough to hide his DNA would have been smart enough not to have sex in the laundry room." Detective Ryan retorted.

"No, you're missing the point." I called out. I had been listening quietly for a few minutes as the detectives tossed this and that back and forth and well, you know me, I could not keep quiet any longer. The detectives turned to look at me. "The laundry room afforded opportunity. It wasn't an accident she was killed there."

For a moment I thought Beckett would grace me another eye roll. Not that I would have minded, let me tell you. I found the way she rolled her eyes at me rather cute and when the opportunity arose I would throw out some quip just to get a rise out of her. It did not come this time. Her brow furrowed a little as she thought over what I had suggested. I can't tell you how pleasing it was to see that she actually took the time to think over something I had said.

I did not get to hear her thoughts about my suggestion because at that moment Captain Montgomery came up to the desk wanting to know from Esposito where he was in the search for Sara's missing cell phone. Esposito informed the captain and the rest of us that he had Sara's phone records pulled and had her phone provider ping the phone and as a result of triangulation the best they could say was that the phone was at the apartment building or near it. Esposito handed over the file to the captain for him to go over the report.

Captain Montgomery looked over the report in a quick but efficient way. Speed reading would have to be another skill that most cops would have to learn. Montgomery suggested that the phone was taken to prevent Sara being able to call for help and it was dumped somewhere close by. In his next breath he asked about the ex-boyfriend.

Detective Ryan took up the ball and informed the captain that we had only a first name, Brent. He lamented that if we had her cell phone his name would be in the address book. Beckett had been checking another file and inquired about the calls. There had been dozens of incoming calls from the same number. Esposito informed her that they were still trying to run that number down but the number was a prepay which made it tracking it down difficult.

Captain Montgomery was not interested in hearing how difficult things were for his detectives. Before he headed to his office he ordered his detectives to find the ex-boyfriend and to bring him in. I noticed that the three detectives took the order in their stride and followed it.

Within an hour a surname had been found to go with the first name and another hour after that Sara's ex-boyfriend had been found and brought in for questioning.

Detective Beckett had chosen not to go out and bring in the ex for questioning. Instead she ran down the guy getting as much information as she could on him. The guy's phone provider had been more than happy to provide a number of recorded voice mail messages. Beckett and I listened to a handful and they were quite an eye opener, let me tell you.

It was interesting to observe how Beckett went about preparing for an interview. Reports were gone over, files were studied and pertinent facts memorised or noted down. Basically getting a picture of the guy sitting in the interrogation room. I asked a few questions here and there to get a better understanding about what she was doing. She answered them without pausing in her preparation.

I found it fascinating. It allowed me an insight as to how real detectives went about their business. I made copious notes in my notebook.

You never got to see cops in films or TV shows doing this, I suppose the writers and directors would think it would be too boring for their audiences.

When Detective Beckett was ready she gathered her things and rose from her desk. I rose to my feet and followed her in the direction of the interrogation room. She paused at the door and rounded on me.

"You're here by invitation only." she reminded me. "Got it?"

"Got it." I confirmed.

"Good." She nodded her head, then opened the door to the interrogation room and strode in. I followed.

Sara Manning's ex-boy friend was a guy by the name of Brent Johnson. He was aged in his early twenties. He was dressed in a shirt that looked like a part of some uniform from a supermarket or some place similar and a plain cream coloured jacket. He was seated at the table with his hands folded together. He also wore a nervous disposition, no doubt wondering what he was doing here. Behind him stood a silent uniformed officer tasked with babysitting him until it was time for the interrogation to begin.

Beckett dismissed the uniform with a small nod of her head. Johnson looked up at our arrival.

"Brent Johnson?" Beckett said.

"Yeah."

"I'm Detective Beckett and this is Mr Castle." Beckett said by way of introduction as we took our seats, Beckett on the other side of the table and me off to the side. "I suppose you know why you're here?"

"The cops that picked me up at my job said you had some questions about what had happened to Sara."

"I understand that the two of you were dating?"

Beckett's tone and demeanour was friendly, easy going, good cop mode so to speak, as if she trying to lull Johnson into a false sense of security. This was the first time I had actually been privileged enough to be able to sit in on an interview. I had seen her do her thing from the other side of the mirror when she had interviewed Kyle Cabot but she had struck out with him because he had not been the talkative type for obvious reasons. I had been impressed with her at that time. I had the distinct feeling that I would be even more impressed with her this time.

"Yeah." Johnson replied, in answer to her question. "Til about a month ago."

"A month ago?" Beckett said, looking curious. "What happened then?"

"Nothing. We broke up." Johnson shrugged.

"Whose idea was that?" I inquired.

"It was a mutual thing, I guess." Another shrug.

"A mutual thing?" Beckett queried. There was a note in her voice that had me turning my head to look at her.

Detective Beckett produced a small digital recorder and placed it in the middle of the table. Johnson's eyes fell to the recorder as Beckett hit the play button. The sound of Johnson's voice filled the room.

"_Hey Sara, it's me. Look, just call me back, okay?"_ There was a beep and another call.

"_You can't just not call me back, Sara. Don't be a bitch." _Another beep and a new call.

"_Come on, Sara. I just want to talk to you. Look, I...I don't know why you just can't tell me who this other guy is. You know...You know what? You're just a little slut!"_

Beckett switched off the recorder and leaned back in her chair. There was silence in the room as Johnson weighed the implications of what had been played. He looked even more nervous than a few moments before.

"There's plenty more of them." Beckett told him, nodding to the recorder.

"Yep, they make Alec Baldwin's messages sound like rainbows and unicorns." I added with a grin.

"How did you get those?" Johnson stammered.

"From your service provider." Beckett informed him.

"A little advice, when you buy a prepaid phone, don't use your credit card. Makes it totally traceable." I said in a friendly tone.

"I wasn't trying to hide anything." Johnson insisted.

"No? Then why did you just lie to me?"

There was a sharpness in Beckett's voice when she asked that question. Her face had hardened a little as she regarded Johnson. I quickly made a mental note to myself. Do not lie to Beckett, it doesn't put her in a good disposition.

"Cause no man likes being dumped. Am I right?" I said to Johnson with a grin on my face. I was trying to get him on side. "Our egos can't handle it. This one time I had this ex-girlfriend cheat on me, I drank every meal for a week. And I didn't even like her. If I'd loved her? Wow. I don't...know..."

My voice trailed off when I saw the annoyed expression on Beckett's face. Wisely I filed away that story in the never to be repeated cabinet.

"No, no. No way, it wasn't like that." Johnson insisted.

My intervention with a story from my past might not have been welcomed by Detective Beckett if the look she gave me was anything to go by. But it had done the trick and had Johnson talking.

Brent Johnson told us that he had found out that Sara had been seeing someone else from a girl named Chloe Richardson. The three of them had been friends from their college days and had remained in touch afterwards. It had been Chloe who had gotten Sara the job as a nanny for the Petersons. Chloe worked as a nanny for a family in the same building.

In answer to where he was when Sara was killed, Johnson said that he had been at work. There were store cameras and sign in sheets that would prove where he was at the time of the murder.

"Am I under arrest or something?" Johnson asked.

"No. you can go." Detective Beckett announced. "But just don't leave town until we speak again. Do you understand?"

"Yes mam." Johnson nodded his head.

Johnson scrambled out of the chair and all but ran out of the interrogation room. I turned to look at Detective Beckett.

"Don't leave town?" I ventured with some amusement in my voice. "Don't you need probable cause for something like that?"

"Only he doesn't know that, does he?"

"You can lie like that?" I said. "That's so cool."

Was that a little guilty look that appeared on the delightful Detective Beckett's face? It was. Oh naughty Detective Beckett, I thought.

"Castle." She snapped, as if she read my mind.

xxx

We reached the park where we would find Chloe Richardson. Esposito had spoken to the doorman and had been told the location of the park where the nannies took their charges. He passed that information to Detective Beckett.

Approaching the front entrance I was suddenly transported back in time, a fond smile rose to my face as I watched in the distance children playing amongst the slides and monkey bars, the swings and sandboxes or simply running around playing games that only children could come up with, while their mothers or nannies kept a close watch on them.

"This brings me back a bit." I remarked.

"A bit? I'm thinking it's a little more than that, Castle." Detective Beckett chuckled.

"I'm not talking about when I was a kid." I scoffed. "I'm talking about when I used to take my daughter to the park."

"You used to take your daughter to the park?" Detective Beckett was not able to hide the look of surprise from her face at my revelation.

"Spring, Summer, fall. We were here every day. Alexis' mom was doing community theatre. She was on the road a lot, so I had custody. What?"

Detective Beckett was a giving me a curious look.

"Nothing." She said, shaking her head. "I never figured you for Mr Mom."

"Some of the best days of my life."

"It's actually kind of nice." Beckett smiled.

My smile grew even wider.

"Yeah, tell me about it." I said happily. "Do you know how many lonely single mothers there are on a Manhattan playground? And there I was between marriages."

That last remark removed the gentle smile from Detective Beckett. We made our way into the park and slowed our pace surveying the children playing and their guardians standing or sitting on the sidelines watching them.

"Exactly how many times have you been married, Castle?"

I was a little taken aback by Detective Beckett's question. I cast a glance in her direction but her gaze was on the children.

"Twice." I responded.

Beckett turned to look at me.

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough?" Seeing that we had entered this territory I was curious about her and had to ask. "How about you?"

"Me? No. Never been." Beckett replied quickly.

I was a little surprised by this admission. "Really?"

"Yep."

"You'd be good at it." I assured her. "You're both controlling and disapproving. You should really try it."

In the short time I had known the delightful Detective Beckett I had found her to be a person who liked to be in control of things. Whether it was her life or an investigation. Perhaps that is why it made her such a good detective and why she had reached the level of lead detective while still relatively young. As for disapproving, I think that had a lot to do with me.

"I'm not a 'if at first you don't succeed' kind of girl, Castle." Beckett said, breaking into my thoughts. "When it comes to marriage, I'm more of a 'one and done' type."

This piece of information was immediately noted in the file I kept in my head marked, Beckett, Kate.

"Any serious candidates?" I ventured.

I did not get an answer to that question. Beckett spotted Chloe Richardson standing beside a jungle gym and we walked over to her and introduced ourselves. Chloe a girl in her early twenties with shoulder length brown hair and a round open face agreed to answer a few of Detective Beckett's questions. She asked one of the other nannies to keep an eye on Becca the little girl she was looking after and then all three of us went and sat down on one of the park benches close by.

I don't know if it was intentional or not but Chloe was seated between Detective Beckett and myself. Detective Beckett got the ball rolling by summarising what Brent Johnson had told us. Chloe was surprised that we had spoken to Brent but she confirmed pretty much what he had said. It had been her who had gotten Sara the job as a nanny.

"When was the last time you saw Sara?" I asked.

Chloe lapsed into silence and stared into the distance.

"I know what it feels to lose someone." Detective Beckett told her in a gentle tone of voice. "But we need to ask you these questions."

I looked over Chloe to Detective Beckett and I saw that she was looking at the girl. I could not help but wonder again who she had lost. Who was it that left that lingering sadness in her hazel eyes?

"Sometimes we'd meet up before work." Chloe said. "Get coffee on Columbus and then walk to work together."

"Did you get coffee that day?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah."

"Did she say anything to you? Did she seem upset?" I said.

"Upset? Upset about what?" Chloe asked, suddenly concerned. She looked at Beckett.

"Brent gave us the impression that Sara was seeing someone." Beckett informed her.

Chloe quickly looked away and again stared into the distance. She remained silent.

"You know who it was, don't you?" I said.

"Sometimes Sara would stay late.." Chloe said hesitantly.

"Stay late where, at the Petersons?" Beckett pressed.

Chloe nodded her head nervously. I looked over to Beckett and gave her 'I told you so' kind of look. She did not respond to my look instead turning her attention to Chloe. The girl had a little more to say.

"We got off work around the same time, so we'd take the train home together. I live with a roommate, a couple of blocks from Sara." Chloe paused a moment before she resumed speaking. "Only the last few months, she'd be staying late. Mr and Mrs Peterson kind of take turns coming home for dinner, you know?"

"Yeah, Mrs Peterson told us." Beckett confirmed.

Suddenly a worried look swept across Chloe's face. "God, I...don't want to say something and then...I mean...I mean he's married."

"Wait a minute. Did Sara tell you about him?" Beckett questioned.

"No, not exactly." Chloe replied. "It's just...the nights Mrs Peterson didn't come home for dinner? Those were the only nights Sara stayed late."

Detective Beckett thanked Chloe for her time and allowed her to leave. There was a thoughtful look on Beckett's face as if she was weighing up the information Chloe Richardson had just imparted. I was more than happy to remain silent and watch her. Just sitting and watching the delightful Detective Beckett could easily become one of my favourite past times. Feeling my gaze on her she turned her head to look at me. There were no prizes for guessing where our next stop was going to be.

xxx

Detective Beckett made a couple of calls and it was not long before we had a location for Howard Peterson. Entering the lobby of a building I could not hold back any longer what I had been thinking since our talk with Chloe Richardson.

"I told you we should have asked the husband more questions earlier." I announced, as we walked.

Beckett cast me a look that included a half raised eyebrow.

"And I told you that I like to question my most likely suspects after I know more about them." Beckett replied. "That way they're tied to more specific answers."

As we walked I thought over what Beckett had said and suddenly the penny dropped.

"You suspected him, too?" I said.

Beckett cast a glance in my direction.

"The husband? Duh."

Just because she could, Beckett punctuated her answer with a roll of her eyes. I could not help but smile.

"You'd really would clean up at my poker game." I told her.

"Right. You, James Patterson, and the rest of the Times best seller list?" Beckett said. "No, thank you, Castle. A little too rich for my blood."

"We could always make it strip poker."

It was a hopeful suggestion that I put out there knowing full well Detective Beckett would never agree to something like that. But like I said it was a hopeful suggestion, anything was possible, the Universe might take pity on me and convince Beckett to take up the offer. The soft chuckle of laughter that emanated from Detective Beckett's lips was the answer I got.

"Sorry, but I prefer mystery to horror." Beckett said.

I could not help but smile at her reply. As come backs go it was a pretty good one. Something I was beginning to learn about the delightful Detective Beckett was she could give as good as she got. I liked that about her. Somewhere in my mind another file was opened up, a sort of Beckett bucket list so to speak, A Beckett list. The first entry in this particular file was to play strip poker with Beckett.

The delightful Detective Beckett and I found Howard Peterson standing in the middle of a large empty office space. He was pacing the floor while he had his phone to his ear speaking to someone on the other end of the line. Noticing us he paused in his pacing. Beckett made a motion with her hand as if to say 'wind up the call'. Peterson quickly rang off.

"Hi, remember us?" Beckett said in a cheerful tone.

From the look on Peterson's face he was anything but happy to see us. We could have had had the interview up in the empty office space but Peterson said that he had another meeting to go to so we accompanied him out. On the street we walked and talk.

"When was the last time you saw Sara, Mr Peterson?" Beckett opened.

"The night before she was killed, I told you that." Mr Peterson replied.

"Which was your night to be home for dinner, right?" I said.

Howard Peterson looked at me. "Right. Why are you asking?"

"Well, Mr Peterson..."

Suddenly Beckett cleared her throat. Catching the look she gave I quickly stopped what I was about to say. Well she was the cop so I guess she got to ask the questions or make assertions. I mentally bowed my head indicating for her to continue. Beckett looked at Peterson.

"We have information that suggests Sara Manning was having a relationship." Beckett informed him.

"Right. She had a boyfriend."

"Someone else."

"Someone else? Who?" A look of confusion appeared on Howard Peterson's face.

I turned to look at Peterson and cleared my throat. Suddenly it dawned on Peterson what we were getting at. Surprise turned to shock.

"Me?" he exclaimed. "You think I was having an affair with Sara?"

"Bingo." I said in a low voice, trying not to look smug.

"That is...That's crazy." Peterson declared.

"Is it?" Beckett now joined in. "We know she stayed late some nights."

"Right." Peterson nodded. "She helped us make dinner."

"Us? What we heard was that she helped on the nights that your wife wasn't home."

Peterson looked from Beckett to me and back to Beckett. A guilty look appeared on his face, the kind of look a kid has when he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"First of all, it's not what you think." Peterson asserted.

"When is it ever?" I said wearily.

"And, yes, I was having an affair."

"So, what happened?" Beckett asked.

"What do you mean, what happened? I cheated. I strayed. What ever you want to call it." Peterson said looking a little misreable at his affair coming to life.

"I mean in the laundry room." Beckett said.

Surprise returned to Peterson's face once more as he looked at Beckett. "What?"

"You just said that you..."

Howard Peterson interrupted Detective Beckett. He confirmed that he was having an affair but it was not with Sara Manning. A look of distaste crossed his face when he said that. He informed us that the affair he was having was with a woman from his office. On the nights that he was supposed to be home for dinner he was actually meeting the woman. He said that he would call Sara to make sure that everything was right. He insisted that his phone records would prove that.

Detective Beckett obtained from Peterson the name of the woman he had been conducting the affair with. I could tell that she was a little disappointed that a suspect had managed to alibi out. He would not be free of suspicion until his alibi checked out but I could tell she did not think he had been the one who had murdered Sara Manning.

I shared Beckett's disappointment and before we left Peterson I told him not to leave town.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts on this effort would truly be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Case of Nanny McDead

Part 3

Detective Beckett was not a particularly happy camper on the drive back to the precinct. I tried my best to lighten the mood with a few jokes but they died a sad lonely death and I wisely chose to refrain from further efforts. I tried to switch on the radio to listen to some music just to fill in the silence in the car but that only earned me a threat of being shot.

Walking into the bullpen we found Detectives Esposito and Ryan at their desks working.

"Hey, what happened with the husband?" Esposito inquired.

"Oh, he was cheating." Beckett reported. "Just not with our victim." She pulled out the sheet of paper with the name of the woman Peterson was seeing and passed it to Esposito ordering him to run the name. It went without saying that he had to check out Peterson's alibi.

"I'm telling you, true commitment is a thing of the past." Detective Ryan intoned. "I mean, name me one happily married couple."

"De Generes and Di Rossi." I offered.

Esposito grinned as he looked at his partner Detective Ryan. "He got you there, bro."

Detective Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

Beckett had gone to her desk and was standing there checking the messages that had been left there. None of them seemed of much importance because she turned around to look at us. She did not look pleased.

"What is this, _The View_?" She snapped. "Where are we on the boyfriend?"

Esposito reported that the boyfriend's story had checked out. Store videos and the sign-in sheets showed him being at work at the time of Sara Manning's murder. A frown settled on Beckett's face as she bemoaned the fact that all they had was a cheating husband with a possible alibi and no cell phone to run the perpetrator's fingerprints.

"I got something better." Ryan announced as he rose from his desk and moved toward Beckett. In his hand he held a yellow post it note.

"Please tell me it's that the mayor wants him out of here." Beckett huffed.

I turned to look at Esposito. "You ever notice how she gets a little grumpy when she doesn't have a suspect?" I asked. I got a nod of agreement from the Hispanic detective.

"We got one now." Ryan said happily. He looked at Beckett and smiled. "Guess who wasn't where they were the day Sara Manning was killed?"

"Who?" Beckett demanded.

I watched with amusement as Beckett tried to snatch the note from Ryan's hand only to have it moved out of her reach. He urged her to guess but she told him she was not going to guess and made another attempt to take the note from only to fail.

"Ryan, I'm not guessing." Beckett said angrily.

"You're a killjoy, you know that?" Ryan sighed.

"Exactly what I've been telling her." I interjected.

Ryan passed the note to Beckett. She looked at the name on the note and her startled look was a sight to behold. Ryan was smiling even more at her reaction.

"No way." she breathed.

"Pretty good, huh?" Ryan chuckled. "Told you, you should have guessed."

Beckett passed the note to Esposito who glanced at it before showing it tom. It was my turn to look surprised at the name that was written in Ryan's scrawl. Looking up at Beckett I could see that grumpy Beckett had taken a hike and in her place was determined Beckett.

xxx

My butt had barely made an impression on the chair before I was accompanying Detective Beckett out the door. Not long after we were standing before the door to apartment 12-F. Beckett rapped her knuckles on the door and waited. It did not take long for the door to be answered. Claudia Manning stood in the doorway. A look of surprise swept across her face.

"You weren't at the office the day Sara Manning was killed." Beckett said to Claudia by way of greeting. "You lied to me, Mrs Peterson."

Claudia let out a sigh then stepped aside and motioned us into the apartment. We followed her into the living room. Beckett informed her that one of her detectives had checked with her son's school and was told that when Sara had not shown up they tried to contact Claudia only to be told by Claudia's assistant that she was unreachable.

"What are you talking about?" Claudia said, trying to bluff it out. It did not go unnoticed the little flicker of nervousness that swept across Claudia's face.

"I'm talking about Sara Manning, Mrs Peterson." Beckett pressed. "We're talking about why you lied about where you were the day she was killed. And why you weren't in your office."

Take that, I thought to myself. Don't mess with determined Beckett. I was not going to miss out on the fun.

"It could have been easy to sneak into the building." I suggested. "Doorman could have been outside hailing a cab, taking a delivery."

Claudia gathered her composure as she turned to look at us. There was a determined look about her.

"My husband is having an affair. Did you know that?" She said.

"Actually, we did." I confirmed.

Claudia said that all these month and she had no idea what was going. It had been Sara who had actually told her. A few weeks back Sara had come looking like a nervous wreck and informed her about what had been happening. Claudia also said that her husband had been paying Sara a little extra to keep her silent. That was a piece of news Howard Peterson had neglected to tell us. Trying to keep it secret had been too much for the poor girl so she had gone to Claudia Peterson and spilled the beans.

I could not help but notice that a frown had settled over Beckett's face when Claudia was speaking. I had a growing feeling that grumpy Beckett was about to return from her hike. I hoped not.

"I don't understand, Mrs Peterson." Beckett interrupted. "If you had nothing to do with Sara's death, then why would you lie?"

It was a question I definitely wanted to hear an answer to.

Claudia Peterson fixed a look at Beckett and responded.

"Because my cheating has no idea I'm about to serve him with divorce papers." She announced. "I lied because I was at my lawyers that afternoon. Howard is not the only one who can keep a secret."

On returning to precinct Beckett added some more information onto the Murder Board and recapped what had been discovered up till that moment. She also moved the photo of Claudia Peterson from the suspect column to the Person Of Interest column. She issued a few orders to Esposito and Ryan for them to carrying out in the morning and then sent us off home.

xxx

After dinner I repaired to my study and fired up my laptop. I inserted a DVD into the laptop and began to study the vision on the screen.

Before leaving the precinct for the night an idea had struck me and asked Beckett if I could get a copy of the vision from the elevator that Ryan had been going over earlier.

"Stealing evidence losing it's appeal, Castle?" Beckett had quipped with a small smile, reminding me of that episode during our first case.

"I didn't steal." I said affronted. "I borrowed."

"Why do you want the video?" Beckett said, ignoring my important correction.

"I don't know, maybe I might spot something that might have been missed." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

I felt like I had not been contributing enough towards the investigation and wanted to do a little more. We had hit a dead end with the investigation and I thought we might get lucky. It was a long shot but I had backed long shots in the past which had come in. Not many but enough to give it a shot.

"Well, I'm not in the mood to arrest you again." Beckett sighed. So she consented to my request and called one of the techs who burned a copy of the video and I headed off home.

I went through each piece of video several times but there was nothing that I found there that we did not know about all ready. Then I had the idea of running the videos side by side. I split the screen of my laptop and ran both videos at the same time. Nothing popped up immediately.

It was that moment when my mother chose to enter my office.

"Hello there, what are you up to?"

"Nothing." I replied.

"You're not webcamming again, I hope?" Mother said as she approached my desk.

"I burned a DVD from the security cameras that the police were looking at." I informed her. Then I added. "And I've never webcammed."

"That's your story, and you're sticking to it, huh?"

I haven't, really! Okay, it happened once. It was for research purposes for a plot line that I ended up not writing but it was just my luck that Mother just happened to waltz into my office at the wrong time and caught me. I swear I think she has this Spidey sense that tingles every time I'm doing something naughty or embarrassing, especially when I'm doing something embarrassing.

Mother perched over my shoulder and looked at the screen. As she did that she expressed a disbelief that the police would give me a DVD. She thought I had stolen the DVD and that I had to stop stealing evidence. You do one thing wrong, which at the time you felt was the right thing to do and you're not allowed to forget it. Her trust in me is so touching, I have to tell you.

"Is that the nanny?" Mother exclaimed on seeing Sara stepping into the elevator.

I murmured an assent.

"What married woman in her right mind invites a girl that pretty into her own home?" She questioned.

Before I had a chance to give Mother a reply to her question even though it was more a rhetorical question than one that required an answer, Alexis swept into the office wanting to know what we were watching.

"I'm watching, she's butting in." I replied good naturedly. I received a not too gently thump on the shoulder for my remark.

I explained to both inquiring red heads that the police had not been able to find the dead nanny's cell phone. They had been hoping to lift some fingerprints from it. I was going through the videos in the hope I might see if she had it with her when she had gone down to the laundry room.

"And?" Mother prompted.

"It's in her hand the first time she brings the clothes down to the wash." I pointed out. "But then she doesn't have it when she goes down to use the dryer."

"So? She probably left it upstairs in the apartment where she worked." Alexis suggested.

"The police say they can't find it."

I had been watching the side by side videos as we were talking. However my eagle eye spotted something.

"Wait a sec." I murmured.

"What?" Alexis asked.

I looked at the time stamps on both videos and my face creased into a frown.

"There's a five second time difference." I informed them.

"A five second time difference in what?" Mother asked.

I did not answer immediately I scrolled back the videos and replayed them again, my eyes moving from one time stamp to the other, confirming what I had spotted a moment before.

"She rides the elevator twice to the basement." I announced. "The first time to put the clothes in the washer, the second time to put them in the dryer. Only the second time, the trip took five seconds longer."

"Why would it take her five seconds longer to travel the same distance?" Alexis queried.

"It shouldn't." I told her.

The next moment I was gripped with the exciting thought that I may have broken the case. Okay, that may be too big a statement to make. However I had discovered a new lead, which I was sure would lead us to the killer.

My arm started reaching for my phone. I was a touch too slow because my darling daughter snatched it up and moved away from the desk. She was one step ahead of me.

"You're not calling Detective Beckett." Alexis said.

"But I've found a lead." I protested.

"It's late, darling." Mother chimed in. "It's been a long day, the poor girl needs to rest."

"Yes dad." Alexis agreed.

I could not believe my two inquiring red heads had turned on me. Now I knew how Julius Caesar felt just before the knives were plunged in. Perhaps I'm exaggerating.

"Hasn't Beckett suffered enough for one day?" Mother said, arching her eyebrows at me.

"This can wait until the morning, Dad."

I thought over what they were saying and I had to concede that my mother and daughter were right. It was late and this piece of information that I had discovered could wait until morning. It was not as if I had found the killer just a new line of inquiry that we could follow. With a great show of reluctance I nodded my head.

I hate it when my mother is right. I hate it even more when my daughter is right. I wont even tell you what I think when they are both right at the same time at my expense.

"Promise, Dad." Alexis said firmly.

Drats, my daughter knew me too well. Now that's a scary thought.

"I promise." I sighed. "I wont call Detective Beckett tonight."

Alexis was about to hand over the phone when she paused. Her eyes lifted to Mother for confirmation that I would keep my promise and probably getting a nod of confirmation she broke into a smile and then handed the phone over.

My two conspiring red heads left me to do some work on the new novel. I will admit that I was sorely tempted to call the delightful Detective Beckett with the information that I had found but I did not call her. I had made a promise to my daughter and I'd sooner cut off my arm before I broke a promise to her.

XXXXX

_**There you go another instalment of the story. I would love to hear what you think of the effort.**_

_**Con **_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Case of Nanny McDead

Part 4

The following day I entered the bullpen to find the delightful Detective Beckett at her desk going over some paperwork relating to the case we were investigating. Esposito and Ryan were also at their desks also hard at work. I quickly planted myself in the chair beside her desk and immediately announced that I had found something on the videos of the elevator.

That caught Beckett's interest she looked up from her work and regarded me carefully. Naturally enough she wanted to know what I had found. I replied that I had to show her. Beckett immediately reached for her copy of the videos but I told her that I needed to show her in person.

This led to a series of _'show me now, Castle'_ and _'no I have to show you in person'_ type of exchanges that lasted all of maybe five minutes or maybe more, certainly it lasted until Detective Esposito grew bored of hearing us bickering that he all but ordered Beckett to take me out for a walk before I did a mess on the floor. I did not think I was acting that excited but I do recall jumping up and down in my seat.

"Fine." Detective Beckett said tersely, she grabbed her things and her car keys and rose from her desk. I happily bounded alongside her as we left the bullpen. Out of the corner of my eye I did catch both Esposito and Ryan grinning and shaking their heads.

The elevator arrived on the twelfth floor and the doors slid open.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Castle." Beckett said, trying not to sound bored.

"Alright, 32 seconds." I announced, my eyes focused on my watch. I looked at Beckett and grinned. "It takes 32 seconds to get from the basement to the twelfth floor."

"Great, I'll alert the media." Beckett rolled her eyes.

Undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm I hit the button for the fifteenth floor. The doors closed and the car moved upwards.

"Only, the second time, it took her 37 seconds." I informed my sceptical Detective Beckett.

A frown of curiosity creased Beckett's face as she thought over what I had just said.

"Why would it take her an extra five seconds?"

"Because the second time she wasn't coming from the twelfth floor. She was coming from the..."

I paused dramatically just as the car reached the next level and the bell rang. The doors slid open.

"The fifteenth floor?" Beckett questioned.

I nodded my head and stepped out of the elevator. Beckett followed.

"That doesn't make any sense." Confusion covered Beckett's face. "The Petersons live on twelve."

"Yeah, but I bet the guy who wears the condom lives on fifteen." I said.

I started down the hallway with Beckett falling into step alongside me. I leaned a little closer to her.

"By the way, that whole elevator thing, I just did it because you smell nice." I mentioned.

She did. She really, really did. I could not quite pin what brand of perfume she was wearing but it was understated and subtle, like a soft caress of the olfactory senses. If I was being conceited I would say that she had dabbed herself with the perfume to impress me. Back in my really conceited days I would have said so. All the same, bottom line, she really did smell nice.

Beckett glanced in my direction following that last remark of mine and I was expecting to see a roll of her hazel eyes. To my surprise I was spared another Beckett eye roll instead I was graced with an enigmatic smile. Could she really have put on that intoxicating perfume for my benefit? I wonder?

I put aside those thoughts when I reached the first door and knocked on it. Beckett was alarmed and told me off saying I could not go around knocking on people's doors because it could freak them out. The door was opened by a short elderly balding man aged in late seventies. The next few moments was like something out of a farcical comedy. Beckett told him that she was the police while I asked if he lived alone? The old man confirmed that he did and wanted to know why. I told him not to worry about it, he was not young enough. Young enough for what, the old man wanted to know. I said for sex.

The old man looked very puzzled at that. He looked from me to Beckett and asked what kind of cops we were. Beckett told him that I was not a cop, she was. And she was looking for someone to have sex with, the old man asked with some incredulity.

I am sure that Beckett was grateful she did not have to provide an answer to the old man. Her eyes had been drawn down the hallway to another apartment where a woman—whose name we came learn was Diana Harris, was coming out with a little girl she had recognised from the park. The little girl that Chloe Richardson was looking after, Becca.

"Castle, look." Beckett said, motioning to the far end of the hallway.

I turned and saw them and started to moved towards them. Beckett apologised to the old man for bothering him and followed me.

"Seventy-seven aint beyond the realm of possibility, you know?" The old man called out to our departing figures.

XXX

Diana Harris invited us into the apartment once Beckett had identified ourselves. I took in the apartment while Beckett took care of the questions. It was a modest abode, the furniture in the living room tasteful and inexpensive. There were a few framed photographs, a couple of family shots, one of which included Chloe Richardson in the family gathering.

"We believe Sara Manning was coming from this floor." Beckett said.

"Well, I don't know anything about that. I was at work." Diana replied. "Maybe she came up to see Chloe."

Diana Harris said that Chloe and Sara were friends and that their kids would get together sometimes for playdates.

The door to the bedroom opened and Diana's husband Ian emerged. He was a tall scruffy looking man with a beard and looked like he had just woken up. He wondered what she was still doing here and then he noticed our presence.

"It's the police." Diana said, indicating Detective Beckett and myself.

"Police?" Ian muttered looking a little confused.

"They think Chloe's friend Sara might've been up here the day she was killed." Diana said. "Wait. You were home that day, right?"

"Umm, what...what day was that?" Ian scratched his head.

"Tuesday." Beckett reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah." Ian nodded his head. "I was here."

"So did you see Sara?"

Ian Harris looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" Beckett said trying not to sound incredulous.

"No."

An idea suddenly came to me.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" I asked, looking at Diana. Beckett turned to give me a curious look.

"People never think about that." I chuckled good naturedly. "When do cops use the bathroom?"

Diana pointed out the bathroom. I thanked her and quickly made my way to it leaving Beckett to continue the questioning. I'd seen many cops in films and TV shows ask the suspects if they could use their bathroom. This was one cliché I would not mind trying out. It was worth a shot.

The Harris bathroom was a modest affair like the rest of the apartment. There was a bathtub and shower stall to one side with a toilet next to it. I moved straight to the medicine cabinet that was above the sink. Opening the cabinet I immediately rummaged through it. On the bottom shelf I found what I was looking for. An open box of condoms. This discovery brought a big smile to myself. I could picture the delightful Detective Beckett smiling with approval when I informed her of what I had discovered.

I put the box of condoms back on the shelf and closed the door of the medicine cabinet. I checked my appearance in the mirror before I moved across to the toilet and flushed it. I quickly left the bathroom and returned to the living room.

Detective Beckett was getting nowhere with Ian Harris I discovered on my return.

"So, you're saying that you can't say one way or the other?" She said, trying to keep her frustration at bay.

"After Chloe got here to take care of Becca, I went inside to take a nap. I work most nights." Ian explained.

I walked behind Detective Beckett. "Condoms." I whispered.

Beckett quickly glanced at me but turned back to look at Ian.

"And what is it you do, Mr Harris?" She asked.

"I'm a musician."

As Ian was answering I walked past Beckett again.

"Condoms in the bathroom." I whispered

Beckett gave me another look that was something between a warning to behave and that she understood what I had just whispered. I took up station beside her and reached for my phone.

"It's possible that Sara was up here." Ian said. He shrugged his shoulders. "I just...I couldn't really be sure."

"You know, maybe you should talk to Chloe about this." Diana suggested.

"I already have."

"And what did she tell you?"

Back at the precinct I had taken note of Sara Manning's phone number and stored it in my phone. Behind Beckett's back I pulled up the number and dialled it.

"She said that she saw Sara earlier in the day." Beckett said. "But she didn't say anything about Sara being in your apartment."

"What else would she be doing up here?" Diana questioned.

Somewhere in the bedroom a cell phone came to life blarring out Pink's tune _'So What'_.

"That sounds like someone's cell phone." I said helpfully.

Detective Beckett shot me a look that said that you're up to something. In response to that look I tried to put on an air of innocence. I did not quite pull it off because there was a knowing smile on my face.

A guilty look appeared on Ian Harris' face which his wife saw. Suspicion swept across her face. She walked quickly into the bedroom and followed the sound of the ringing phone. Getting down on her hands and knees she peered under the bed. Reaching under the bed she pulled out the cell phone which had stopped ringing. I had cut the call. Diana Harris held up the phone so that we could see it.

"Ian, , who the hell's phone is this?" Diana angrily demanded.

There was no need to engage in a game of twenty questions to get to the answer of that question.

The discovery of Sara Manning's phone led the delightful Detective Beckett to cordially invite Ian Harris back to the precinct to answer a few questions that Detective Beckett wanted to ask. He had no choice but to accept the invitation.

On the ride back to the precinct the delightful Detective Beckett did grudgingly concede that my little bout of mischief making may have broken open the case. I could not help but bask in the glow of her grudging concession. It brought a smile to my face. Hey, I would take praise in any form from Detective Beckett any time.

XXX

Another suspect another interrogation. I was enjoying watching Detective Beckett at work in the interrogation room. My note book was filled with observations watching her at work. After we had let Ian Harris to cool his heels in the interrogation room for a sufficient amount of time Detective Beckett and I entered the room and set about getting a confession out of him.

Ian Harris was a little more wide awake now. Nothing can snap you awake faster than being told you're being placed under arrest for the suspicion of murder.

"Why was her phone in your bedroom?" Beckett asked.

"Maybe she dropped it." Ian shrugged. "I don't know."

"You told me you went into the bedroom to take a nap." Beckett retorted. "How could she go into the room, drop the phone, and you not see her?"

There was a tone of incredulity in her voice as she stared across the table at Ian.

"She's right." I said. "It doesn't make sense when you think about it."

"We're running a test on the condoms we found in your medicine cabinet." Beckett said.

"Now there's something you never want to hear." I laughed.

I thought Beckett and I were doing a nice line in good cop bad cop. Detective Beckett shot me a look which I interpreted as 'cool it with the jokes'. At least that's what I thought she was saying.

"If the spermicide's a match, you're facing a murder charge." Beckett informed him.

"Well, I didn't kill Sara." Ian said.

"But you were sleeping with her?" I asked.

"Look, we had sex, okay?" Ian said trying to control his anger. "But when Sara left my place she was fine."

"You followed her down to the basement, didn't you?" Beckett pressed. "You followed her in the basement, and then you killed her."

"No! I wouldn't hurt Sara."

"You wouldn't hurt her? You're a married man sleeping with her in your own bed."

"What time did she leave your apartment?" I inquired.

"A little before one." Ian replied.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because Chloe gets back from the park with Becca everyday around one o'clock to give her her lunch." Ian said. "And Sarah left maybe ten minutes before Chloe got back. Look, you ask Chloe. She would tell you I was there. There's no way I could've killed Sara."

I had a few more questions to throw at Ian Harris and you can be sure Beckett had more than a few more to ask him. Unfortunately the interview came to a screeching halt so fast you could almost smell the burnt rubber when the door to the interview room was opened and in walked a lawyer by the name of Frank Garrison. He informed us that he had been retained to represent Ian Harris and instructed him not to say anything else.

Detective Beckett was none too happy to have her interview interrupted by a suspect's legal representative. She made an effort to keep Ian here in the room telling the lawyer that his client could answer her questions here and now or he could answer questions before a grand jury. The lawyer challenged Detective Beckett to charge Ian Harris if she had enough evidence.

Even I knew that we did not have enough to charge Harris with murder, especially after he had told us that Sara had left his apartment before one o'clock and that Chloe could back him up that he was in the apartment. Both Beckett and I were not happy to watch Ian Harris leave the interrogation room in the company of his lawyer.

"Guess it's a lot tougher when they actually know the rules, huh?" I joked. Beckett glared at me.

The joke died a sad lonely death I'm afraid to say.

XXX

I walked into the bullpen a little later to find Beckett, Esposito, Ryan and Captain Montgomery standing or sitting around discussing the case. Ryan was on the phone while the others were kicking it around, he rang off just as I took my place.

"The lab says condoms are a match." Ryan informed the group.

"So, we can prove they had sex." Captain Montgomery said.

"Look, if Chloe got home by one o'clock, then there's no way he had time to get down to the basement, kill Sara and make it back upstairs." Beckett said, her frustration still showing.

"Maybe we ought to pick up Chloe, see if she backs up his story?" Esposito suggested.

"We don't have to." I ventured.

"Why not?" Montgomery asked.

"Because the elevator cam had a time stamp." Beckett informed him.

As we all got up and headed for the conference room to view the vision from the elevator cam I saw Detective Beckett give a little smile. It was the first smile I had seen from her in over an hour. I like to think it was directed to me, a small thank you for having made the suggestion about the elevator cam. Well, that's my story and I'm going to stick to it.

A short while later we were all crowded around a video monitor. A female tech was in control of the monitor. She brought up the vision and asked what exactly we were looking for. Esposito informed her that we were looking for Chloe so that Harris' story could be checked out.

The tech rolled the vision fast forwarding it. In next to no time we spotted Chloe getting into the elevator at 12.54.

"Okay, that's six minutes after Sara Manning got into the elevator." I pointed out.

"I guess Harris was telling the truth." Captain Montgomery said. He sounded a little disappointed that Harris wasn't the murderer.

"Wait." Beckett called out. "Where's the kid?"

"Where's what kid?" Montgomery asked, looking confused.

"Becca. The little girl Chloe takes care of?" Beckett said.

"Maybe she left the kid in the playground with one of the other nannies?" Montgomery suggested.

From the look on Detective Beckett's face I could tell that she was onto something. Her face was animated and there was a glint in her eye.

"Harris said that she came back with his daughter at the same time every day." Beckett continued.

"What difference does it make?" Detective Ryan questioned.

"The difference is there are no coincidences, not when murder's involved." I informed the young Irishman.

"Chloe would've known Sara's schedule, and Chloe would've known that Sara was in the basement at that time." Beckett said.

"Pick her up." Captain Montgomery ordered, simply and crisply.

XXX

A little over an hour later Detective Beckett and I found ourselves knocking on the front door of Chloe Richardson's apartment. The door was answered by a young woman aged in her early twenties. She was a little surprised to see the badge that Detective Beckett held up for her to see.

The young woman confirmed that Chloe lived there but that she was not there at the moment.

In answer to my question about where Chloe had gone, the young woman said that Chloe had gone into the city.

Beckett and I were allowed in to have a look around. I suspect that Beckett would have walked in regardless of being invited in or not. She moved about the apartment and disappeared into one of the bed rooms. My attention was drawn to a side table where several framed photographs. One particular photograph caught my attention. I picked up the photo.

"Detective." I called out.

Beckett emerged from the bedroom and came over to where I was standing. I showed her the picture.

"That's the family Chloe works for." The young woman said.

"Not exactly the whole family." I said. "She cut the mom out of the picture."

I had seen the complete photograph in Harris' apartment.

Beckett rounded on the young woman.

"Where in the city did Chloe go?"

The young woman supplied the information that Chloe had gone into the city to the Harris' as they needed her to babysit.

Beckett turned to look at me.

"Chloe must have found out that I took Harris in for questioning." she said.

"If she talked to his wife, she'd know he'd been released." I replied. "And we know what she does to people she doesn't like."

"She's going after Ian Harris. We better find her before she finds him." She said grimly.

Detective Beckett flew out the front door leaving me to thank the young woman for her time and punctuating our thanks with the smile I usually used for my adoring fans at book signings. I had to race to catch up to the now determined Detective Beckett.

XXX

Detective Beckett and I arrived out the front of the Harris' apartment building in almost record time. I will spare you the details of the actual journey. We found waiting for us out the front Detectives Esposito and Ryan. Beckett had called on ahead and got them rolling.

"No answer in the apartment when the doorman called upstairs." Esposito reported.

"But he's sure Chloe's there." Ryan added. "He says Ian Harris is up there too. Came home about an hour ago."

"Which means Chloe would have been there waiting for him." I suggested.

Detective Beckett nodded her head as she took in the situation and made a decision about what to do.

"Alright." She announced. "We don't have time to wait for emergency services. We're going to have to go in on our own."

Detective Esposito chose that moment to point to me and ask what they were going to do about me.

"He stays here." Beckett replied.

"No! Come on! Come on!" I complained. "I already signed my life away. What more do you want?"

Beckett turned to look at me fully.

"Okay, Castle. But it's accompany and observe, not participate and annoy. Got it?"

"Participate and annoy is a lot more fun but alright." I nodded.

We started to move towards the front doors of the apartment building.

"Stay behind us in the hallway, and don't move unless I tell you." Beckett added.

"Hope to die..." I quipped.

Beckett turned and glared at me.

"You know what I mean." I said as I waved her onwards.

Beckett turned and led the two detectives and myself into the building. We crossed the lobby and headed for the elevator. Thankfully the doorman had it waiting for us and we all piled in and headed for the fifteenth floor.

As we rode up I opened my mouth to say something witty to ease the tension that was blanketing us. Beckett, almost as if she sensed what I was about to say, turned to look at me and raised an eyebrow. It was a warning look that I would come to know very well in the days ahead. Wisely I closed my mouth and said nothing. In all honesty I can not remember what I was going to say. That look of hers erased the thought faster than a Vulcan mind meld.

The elevator deposited us on the fifteenth floor and Beckett took the lead along the hallway towards the Harris's apartment. Even from my position at the rear of this little group I could see Beckett getting herself ready for what ever confronted us. She had undone the buttons of her coat leaving it lose and for easy access to her gun. She unknotted the scarf she was wearing as well.

Approaching the door of Harris' apartment she slowed down. She saw that the front door was slightly ajar.

"Open door." She announced, while at the same time reaching for her gun. Esposito and Ryan reached for their weapons as well. She peered through the open door.

"I got a victim down, guys." she added. "Stack em up."

Esposito and Ryan almost threw themselves against the wall beside the door. I was right there with them. Beckett launched herself through the front door with her gun raised. Esposito and Ryan were right behind her. I waited a moment or two before I passed through the front door but I hovered near there as I watched the detectives clear the apartment.

Ryan went to Ian Harris and checked him, calling out that he was still alive. Beckett had gone to the door to the bathroom where Diana Harris had holed herself up with her daughter. Beckett managed to coax her out.

A very terrified looking Diana Harris told Beckett that she did not know where Chloe was. She had been giving Becca a bath and did not even know that Chloe was in the apartment.

The telephone on the side table where I was standing next to started buzzing. Diana explained that it was the doorman calling up. Beckett told me to answer it, which I did. It was the doorman. He was calling up to inform the police that a tenant had called him to say that there was a girl in the laundry room and she had a knife.

I relayed the doorman's information to Detective Beckett. Leaving Detective Ryan to look after Ian Harris until the paramedics arrived, Beckett led the rest of us out of the apartment and our next stop was the basement.

XXX

There were a number of curious tenants standing on the stairs rubber necking when we arrived in the basement. Beckett tasked Esposito to get the people out of the basement after one of the building workers informed us that the girl was in the laundry room just sitting there.

Beckett approached the door that led to the laundry room she had her gun drawn and I was with her.

"So what's the plan?" I asked her.

Beckett looked at me. "To get everyone out of here alive." She said.

"Good plan." I nodded.

"You don't go in. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Beckett raised her gun and approached the door. She pushed it open and peered in cautiously. From behind her I could see Chloe Richardson sitting on a table in the middle of the laundry room. She was staring into space. She was holding a large butcher knife that she was running over her thigh.

"Chloe? Chloe, it's Detective Beckett. Do you remember me?"

"Please go away." Chloe called out.

Beckett moved slowly and carefully into the laundry room.

"I'm sorry, Chloe, but I can't do that."

Beckett continued to move carefully through the room. She saw that the young woman was pressing the knife against her leg and there was blood seeping through. Beckett came to a halt beside one of the dryers.

"Look, Chloe, you're hurt. Why don't you put the knife away, and let me help you?"

"Why don't you just shoot me?" She replied. She snuffled back tears. She had been crying.

While Beckett was getting into a position beside the spin dryer I silently stepped into the laundry room. Yeah, right, I was going to stay outside of the laundry room.

"Hey." Beckett called out to the young woman. "Look at me. Look."

Chloe slowly turned her head to look at Beckett.

"No one's going to shoot anyone. Okay?" Beckett told her.

Beckett slowly crouched down and lowered her gun. At that moment the door of the laundry room closed behind me.

"Unless it's you, if you take another step, Castle." Beckett warned.

I quickly pressed myself against the door and remained silent.

"He was sleeping with her." Chloe said, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

"I know." Beckett said quietly.

"Only the whole time he was sleeping with me. And he was telling me that he loved me, that he was going to leave his wife for me."

"Guys can be like that sometimes, Chloe." Beckett sighed. "They can lie, and I know when you find out, how much it can break your heart."

As I rested against the door I found that I was barely breathing, watching the scene unfolding before me as Beckett talked to the girl. My heart skipped a beat. Beckett had revealed something about herself which I'm sure she would not have revealed under any other circumstance. I had learned something about this woman.

What I learned was that some time in the past Kate Beckett had her heart broken by someone she loved. In that moment I felt a little bit like a voyeur. The thought that went through my mind was, what thoughtless, useless, miserable excuse for a member of the male species had done that to her?

"I'm pregnant." Chloe declared.

"Well, that's even more reason for us to get you some help, right?" Beckett said gently.

Chloe said that she wanted to speak to Sara. She wanted to tell Sara that she and Ian were in love. Beckett assured the young woman that she knew what had happened to Sara was an accident. Chloe proceeded to explain that she had left Becca in the park and went up to the apartment just to see if it was true that Sara had been sleeping with Harris, as she had seen the way he had been looking at her. But as soon as Chloe saw the bed she knew. While Harris had hit the shower Chloe had gone downstairs to the laundry room just to talk to Sara.

Chloe said that Sara was her friend but she didn't get it. Sara did not get how they had felt about each other. When Sara had turned around Chloe had reached for the bottle of bleach and hit Sara. She fell and hit head against the table. Chloe said that she was so scared that she just put the body into the dryer.

I felt sad for the young woman as I listened to her story. I felt sad and angry. Sad for the ruining of two young lives and angry at the man who had caused it all.

"Chloe, put the knife down, okay." Beckett said gently. "Let me help you. Just put the knife down. Come on."

For what seemed like an eternity I did not think that Chloe would put the knife down but suddenly the butcher's knife cluttered to the floor. I let out a long sigh of relief. I found that I could breath again.

Beckett rose up from her crouch, holstering her gun and went to Chloe. She kicked the knife away and then put her arm around the young woman.

"I'm so stupid." Chloe cried.

"It's okay." Beckett whispered, consoling her.

XXX

I was standing on the side walk when the paramedics passed by me with a conscious Ian Harris on the gurney. A pang of anger rose within me as I watched as they loaded him into the ambulance. I suppressed that emotion quickly.

Detective Beckett was standing a short distance away. She was watching as a handcuffed Chloe Richardson was put into the back of a police cruiser. I walked over to her.

"Looks like I've managed to make through the case without getting injured, shot or killed." I joked when I joined her.

Beckett turned to look at me. There was a brief smile on her face that vanished all too quickly.

"Yeah, well maybe tomorrow." she retorted.

I laughed at that.

"By the way, I really liked that whole, sisterhood thing you ran back there." I said.

"I wasn't running anything, Castle." Beckett replied, her face hardening. "What that guy did has consequences. Only he'll get to just walk away."

I glanced in the direction of the departing ambulance for a moment before turning my attention to Detective Beckett.

"Well, not scot free." I said. "I mean, I sense a pretty big divorce settlement in his future."

"Whatever it is, it wont be enough."

I was more than a little surprised by the amount of anger there was in Beckett's response. I stood there and watched her walk away and I could not help but think back to what she had said down in the laundry room.

XXX

Detective Beckett dropped me off home before she headed to the precinct to finish up the case. My presence was not really needed at the twelfth and I had the distinct impression that Beckett did not want me there anyway. Well I was not going to push it, not tonight.

I went straight to my office and started writing. In the silence of Beckett's car on the drive back a number of scenes were playing in my mind and I had an urgent need to put them down on paper. I recreated the scene from the laundry room. Pausing to re-read what I had written and once more I wondered who had broken Kate Beckett's heart.

"So did you get the guy?" Alexis inquired as she walked into the office.

"On their way up the river as we speak." I replied.

I placed my laptop on the desk.

"Cool." Alexis said, smiling. "Was it who you thought?"

"Actually, it wasn't." I said.

Alexis perched herself beside the desk.

"Wow. It must have been a pretty good story to surprise you."

I nodded my head and murmured my agreement in response to her remark. For a moment my thoughts ventured back to the case and to all that had occurred.

"You know, you better be careful or you'll turn into one of your readers." Alexis joked.

I was immediately drawn away from my thoughts and smiled up at my daughter.

"Okay, you just ruined it." I said.

A thoughtful look appeared on my daughter's beautiful face.

"You know, it's okay to be surprised sometimes." She said. "That's the fun."

"You surprise me all the time." I beamed.

Alexis let out a chuckle as she came over and gave me a kiss.

"I'll see you in the morning, Dad."

"Good night, pumpkin."

Alexis left and headed for the door. I turned my attention back to the laptop.

"Dad?" Alexis called out. She was standing in the doorway. I looked up.

"Thanks for being my nanny."

"No sweat, kiddo."

After Alexis disappeared I closed the laptop and opened on one of the drawers of the desk. Searching through it I did not find what I was looking for. I searched the other drawer. A smile rose to my face as I found what I had been looking for. I pulled out the framed photograph and gazed at it, my smile deepened. It was a picture of me and Alexis when she was aged about four. I can't remember who had taken the photo but it still remains one of my favourites. We're in a park both rugged up against the cold walking away from the camera. Alexis is holding my hand. It's a sweet and cute frozen moment in time.

XXXXX

_**I hope you enjoyed the final instalment of this case. Thank you to everyone who has added it to your alerts and thank you to everyone who has reviewed. There will be more to come in the not too distant future. I would dearly love to hear what you think of this chapter.**_

_**Con **_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Case Of Hedge Fund Home Boys

Part 1

Walking into the kitchen I was greeted with a familiar scene. Alexis seated on a stool, dressed for school eating cereal. I would not have remarked on the scene except for the fact that my daughter was not face down in some school book. No, on this particular morning I was a little surprised to discover my daughter reading the newspaper.

"Reading the paper?" I said. "You're going to lose all of your wired-teen-hyper-nano-gizmo street cred."

"I'm a rebel. I kick it old school." Alexis replied.

I moved in the direction of the espresso machine and to my delight I saw sitting beside the machine a cup of coffee waiting for me.

"Is this...?"

"Cream, two sugars." Alexis informed me as she looked up from the newspaper.

I was touch by my daughter making me a cup of coffee. I picked it up and thanked her.

"Style section." I said noting the section of the paper Alexis was reading. "Anything I need to know?"

"The 70's are back."

"They're like the _Highlander_, they just wont die." I lamented.

I do have memories of the 70's and they comprise mainly of standing in the wings of theatres watching mother perform and libraries. I also remember a few other things from the seventies but they are stories for another time.

Catching sight of my mother I noticed that she was dressed up. I greeted her and remarked that she was dressed early. Mother explained that she had class.

"I believe that is a matter of debate." I said dryly.

Mother gave me a look and explained that she had a class she was attending. An introduction to life coaching. Mother it seems wanted to branch out from acting. While she appreciated everything I had done for her, taking her in, giving her a roof over her head and so on, she wanted to stand on her own two feet and life coaching classes was the avenue she was going to use. She had already had cards printed and with a flourish present one to me.

I read the card and noticed immediately that my name was on it.

"It says here, that I'm your client." I said.

"Well of course you are." Mother breezed. "Haven't I been telling you what to do your whole life?"

Mother exited stage left leaving me a little dumb struck by her last remark. Come to think of it she had been telling me what to do most of my life. I did not always take the advice she imparted but that never stopped her. I guess in her own inimitable way she had been my life coach. Still the thought of Martha Rogers conducting life coaching classes left me feeling a little anxious.

Fortunately my darling daughter was able to draw me away from these thoughts. She said that one of her friend's father had gone back into rehab and as a result a chaperone spot had opened up and was wondering if I would fill the spot.

As much as I would have liked taking the now available spot I had to decline. With Alexis away my chaperoning duties would be here to look after Mother.

"Are you forgetting what happened the last time we left her alone?" I said.

"So, she had a little party." Alexis replied.

A little party? The loft looked like a herd of wildebeests had migrated through it. The cleaning service had taken a couple of days to clean up the place. I was not keen on a repeat performance.

Mercifully before any decision could be made my phone came to life. A glance at the caller ID brought a smile to my face.

"Who was murdered and was it gruesome?" I said in greeting to Detective Beckett who was calling.

XXX

I was rugged up against the cold winter's morning. The sky was leaden with the promise of rain or even sleet. That was the kind of winter we were having. We were in Central Park making our way to the lake. Detective Beckett too was rugged up against the cold that included a cute colourful beanie. The bite of the cold air had given her nose and cheeks a rosy hue that I found appealing.

As we approached the edge of the lake Detective Esposito turned and walked to us.

"One victim. Donald Kendall, 18." Esposito reported. "He was a senior at Redding Prep."

Beckett nodded her head in acknowledgement and walked to the edge of the lake. The body of Donald Kendall was sprawled along the length of a row boat. His school shirt was marred by the large bloodstain in his chest.

I was suddenly filled with overwhelming sadness. The kid was not much older than my daughter.

"Someone's going to miss prom night." Detective Ryan remarked.

"Redding Prep?" Beckett queried as she studied the body.

"Private school on Park Avenue." I supplied.

"No trust baby left behind." Esposito quipped.

Some call it black humour or gallows humour, such joking is very prevalent amongst the police, especially homicide investigators. To outsiders this might seem like disrespect to the victim. Despite my only short time shadowing Detective Beckett and her team and watching the other detectives of the twelfth precinct I can assure you there is no disrespect intended. It is merely a coping mechanism. You try dealing with the results of man's inhumanity to man on a daily basis and see how well you would cope. It would be enough to drive you to madness. They resort to humour to cope while they begin to try and find the murderer.

"What's he doing in the boat?" Detective Beckett asked.

"No idea." Esposito shrugged.

Detective Beckett looked from the body and moved her gaze to the Medical Examiner. Dr Lanie Parish was standing on the other side of the row boat in the water sheathed in a pair of rubber waders.

"Dr Parish, how you doing?" Beckett called out.

"My feet are cold." Lanie Parish snapped back.

"So, what have you got for me?" Beckett ignored the good doctor's snappish reply.

"Single GSW to the chest, fairly large calibre." Lanie reported, suddenly all business. "And, from the lack of blood in the boat, I'd say he wasn't killed at sea."

"Somebody moved him."

Lanie nodded her head. "He's got dirt and grass on his Chucky T's. Other than the post mortem voyage, looks like a pop and drop. I'm guessing some time last night."

Beckett shifted her gaze from the body and took in the surrounds.

"Well, if somebody dragged him here, he couldn't have come from very far." Beckett surmised. Her gaze settled on Detective Ryan. "Let's get uniforms down here to do a perimeter walk. Get them to go from over there down to fifth. And tell them they're looking for a blood pool and shell casings."

"Roger that." Ryan replied and quickly moved away to carry out the orders he had been given.

"Esposito did you check the boat house?" Beckett said looking to Esposito.

"Not yet."

I saw Detective Beckett give Esposito a look and I knew that it would be the first thing on his list of things to do. Beckett turned away from the murder scene and started to walk away. I quickly fell into step alongside her.

We had walked a short distance before Beckett broke the silence between us.

"So, why the burial at sea?"

"The Vikings believed that if you wanted to reach Valhalla, you needed a vessel." I said.

Beckett slid a sideways glance in my direction. I detected an arching of an eyebrow.

"Gun-toting Vikings? That's your theory?" She said dead pan.

"No, no." I said, hurriedly adding. "They also launched their dead with a sacrificial woman, some booze and a good horse."

There was the eye roll and shake of the head that I knew and loved!

XXX

There were no prizes for guessing where our next port of call was.

Having to break the news to parents that their child has been found murdered is without doubt one of the hardest things a police officer has to do. Some accept the news stoically, some with deep shock, some become a hysterical heap, while others refuse to believe it. There is always tears. There is no wrong or right way to accept such news. And there is never, ever an easy way to break such news.

The Kendalls took the news of their son with shock and with tears. Standing in their apartment my heart went out to the father and mother at the news that had suddenly turned their world upside down. I could not even begin to imagine what they were going through and if I'm being brutally honest I wish to never know.

Detective Beckett was a sight to behold and I could not help but admire her for the way she informed the Kendalls of the death of their son. There was sadness on her face as she broke the news. She was gentle and understanding, empathising with the suddenly grieving parents. But then she knew what the Kendalls were going through. Sometime in her past she had been on the receiving end of such news.

After a little bit of time when the shock of the news had sunk in we were shown in to the living room. It was modest sized room which I could not help but notice that seemed to be a little too cluttered for a room of its size. Beckett and I were seated on a couch and opposite us were the Kenalls. Mr Kendall was a gaunt looking man aged in his early fifties and his wife still looking shocked and her eyes red rimmed from the bout of crying would have been a little younger, early to mid forties I would have said. My eyes wandered to the large Chinese screen that was behind the Kendalls. It looked so out of place in this room.

The Kendalls consented to answering a few questions from Detective Beckett.

"Do you know what he would have been doing in the park?" Detective Beckett asked.

Mrs Kendall said she didn't know. The last time she had seen her son alive had been the day before when he had left for school.

"Do you know, maybe, where he went after?"

"He was usually with his friends." Mrs Kendall said sniffling back a fresh bout of tears.

"He didn't come home for dinner?" Detective Beckett questioned.

"Most nights, Donny ate out or at someone else's place."

"He hung out with a pretty tight crowd at Redding." Mr Kendall added. "They've all been together since grammar school."

"Donny used to have them over all the time." Mrs Kendall said.

"Only, you moved recently." I suggested. I could feel Beckett's eyes on me but I continued to look at Mrs Kendall.

Mrs Kendall nodded her head yes and then said that they had moved only a few months ago. The reason for the move was supplied by Mr Kendall. He had been a partner with Lehman Brothers and when that went under he had taken a big hit as a result, hence the move to a more modest apartment. At the moment they were just getting by.

"That can be pretty tough on a teenager." I remarked.

"You get used to a certain way of living." Mrs Kendall said. "But it was no one's fault."

"Do you think Donny was depressed?"

"Donny was strong." Mr Kendall insisted.

Detective Beckett sensed that was enough questioning for the time being and drew the interview to a close by rising to her feet. I took the hint and got to my feet as well. Before we left both Beckett and I expressed our condolences for the Kendall's loss.

After leaving the Kendall's apartment we walked along the hallway for the elevator. Beckett suddenly turned to look at me.

"How did you knew they moved?" She asked.

"Either the Kendalls really like art, or that Chinese screen was meant for a much larger apartment." I explained.

Detective Beckett nodded her head. I think she might have been impressed with my skills of observation. We reached the elevator and she pressed the down button and waited for the elevator to arrive.

"I wonder how they can still afford Redding?" I questioned.

A questioning eyebrow was cast in my direction.

"You know the school?" Beckett asked.

I could not help but grin at her question. The elevator arrived and we stepped into the car.

"I've been kicked out of all New York's finer educational institutions at least once." I informed her. Then I let out a little chuckle as I continued. "The irony is, now that I'm rich and famous, they all claim me as alum and want money."

"It's just so rough being you." Beckett laughed.

"My cross to bear." I sighed.

XXX

Redding Prep had changed little since I had attended this fine learning institution. There were the same old buildings though the stone façades looked a little more grimier than I can remember. I smiled at the sight of the science building where from one of the open windows the great Water Bombing fight had taken place. Well, it wasn't much of a fight really. It was just me and a couple of accomplices hanging out the window and bombing passersby below with water filled balloons. We were never caught I am pleased to say. The gardens were still well maintained I noticed. The gardens had been the scene of the Great Egg battle and unfortunately on that occasion I had been caught. The upshot of that particular episode was that my presence at Redding was no longer required. Ah the memories.

Beckett caught my smile of reminiscing and shot me an enquiring look but I gave her a shake of the head. This was not the time or place for tales of my misspent youth.

I spotted one or two teachers who I remembered from the days when I was here. I was relieved to see they had not recognised me. Almost in the next heart beat I was a little disappointed that they didn't remember me. I remembered one of them telling me that I would not amount to much. How wrong were they?

Detective Beckett and I were walking along the corridor passing a row of class rooms. We were accompanied by the school principal, Chris Markum. He came here after I was long gone but when we had met him in his office and introduced ourselves he did give me a quizzical look as he shook my hand. Sometimes teachers and principals in particular have this kind of Spidey sense where they can pick a mischief maker from a mile off.

"When the Kendalls said they could not afford tuition, we put Donny on scholarship." Markum informed us as we headed for the exit. "The family had been very generous in the past, and Donny was one of brightest. We thought he would do great things."

We emerged from the building and stood on the top of the steps.

"Any idea what he would have been doing in Central Park at night?" I asked.

"The truth is, all these kids are icebergs." Markum replied. "We only see the tip. If you want to know the rest, you should probably talk to his friends."

Markum raised an arm and pointed across the courtyard to a group of five kids seated around a table.

"Amanda, Romy, Brandon, Spencer and Marx." Markum said. A frown creased his face as he turned back to look at us. "It's strange seeing them without Donny."

Detective Beckett and I thanked Markum and made our way across the courtyard to speak to the kids who had been Donny Kendall's friends.

XXX

The five kids were all looking sad and mournful at the death of their friend. Brandon a tall kid pulled out his smart phone and pulled up a clip of Donny to show us. The clip showed a happy and smiling Donny announcing that his parents were off to Abu Dhabi and he was inviting his friends over to his place to watch and episode of _Dancing with the Stars_ and to drink his father's sixteen year old single malt whisky. Beckett and I watched the vision in silence.

"That was before they moved and everything." Brandon informed us as he closed the app on his phone.

"Were any of you with Donny last night?" Beckett asked.

There was a shake of heads in response to the question.

"We hung out after school, but we all headed home around five." The kid called Spencer explained.

Beckett nodded her head. The look on her face told me that she sensed that these kids knew something.

"Look, guys, I went to York." She told them. "I know all about honour codes and protecting your friends."

"You went to York Prep?" The girl named Amanda asked.

That piece of news that Detective Beckett had imparted to the kids gave me cause for a little surprise. I could not help but feel pleased with myself that I had been right when I had profiled her when we had been sitting in the conference room ploughing through all my fan mail during the Tisdale case.

"How's a Yorkie end up a cop?" Brandon asked with a leering grin.

Have you ever taken an instant dislike to some one you have just met? There is no rhyme or reason, you don't know the person because you have never met them before but in that moment of meeting you know that you don't like them? That was the feeling I got with Brandon. He had a smarmy look about him, a little too cocksure of himself. Maybe it was because of his wealth and privilege that made him that way I don't know but right at that moment I didn't like that kid.

"Things happen, things like this." Beckett said in answer to Brandon's question. "The point is, that if you're trying to protect your friend's memory, I get it. But eventually, the truth comes out. And the faster it does, the easier it'll be for us to help find who did it."

There was silence for a few moments and the kids weighed up what Detective Beckett had told them. For a moment I did not think they would speak but then Brandon spoke.

"His family lost everything." He said.

"Not that we cared." Amanda said quickly. "But we go out, you know?"

"We always offered to cover him, but he couldn't handle it." Romy added, the only Asian member of this group.

"Yeah, he just kind of fell apart." Spencer said.

"Fell apart, how?" Beckett asked.

Nervously the kids looked away from Beckett's gaze.

"Guy's, he can't get in trouble." I said gently.

"He kind of got into drugs." Amanda said.

"If he had money problems, how did he support his habit?" I asked.

"He started dealing, in the park." Amanda informed us.

Detective Beckett thanked the kids for their time and we started to head back to her car. The kids had given us a lead of sorts. As we walked away I remembered one of the kids had not spoken. The kid called Max had been quiet, letting his companions speak. He had looked the most nervous of the all of them. At the time I had put it down to him being the shy member of the group, the quiet one. Most groups usually have them and more so in groups of school kids. At the time I didn't give it much thought. Now that we had a drug related lead, that is what Detective Beckett and I would follow.

As Beckett and I made our way to her car I spoke up.

"Classic tragedy." I said. "Prominent family falls into disrepute, scion spirals downward."

"And bad things happen." Beckett said, finishing my sentence.

"Of course bad things happen. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a tragedy."

Beckett nodded her head in response. Then I plunged into my file of useless information.

"Did you know in the original Greek 'tragedy' literally means 'goat-song'?"

Beckett shot me a look that was somewhere between confused and 'I can't believe you said that'.

"I know. It doesn't make sense to me either." I continued. "Whatever that first story was, I can't help but think bad things must have happened to that goat."

The delightful Detective Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head at what I had said. I think she was going to say something but was forestalled by the sudden ringing of her phone.

As she answered the call I leaned in to hear what the caller was saying. I got in real close. Without missing a beat the Detective Beckett reached out with her free hand and clamped her fingers on my ear. She gave my ear a painful twist as she pulled my head away from her. Did I mention that the ear twist was painful? It was. Did I cry out in pain? Did I call out my safe word? I am pleased to report that I did not cry out in pain. Being the gentleman that I am, I gave her the courtesy of silence while I suffered as she spoke on the phone.

"Sure, I'll be right there." Beckett told the caller and rang off. She finally released me from my torture.

Beckett resumed walking with a smug look on her face. I started to follow while at the same time rubbed at my throbbing ear.

"Next time, put it on speakerphone." I grumbled.

Have you noticed that Detective Beckett is a bit of a grabber? First my nose, and now my ear? I can't help but wonder what other body part of mine she would fancy grabbing. Actually, there is one or two I could think of but we're not going going to go there.

_Since I wrote that particular passage, I have been pleasantly shocked to discover what other parts of my body my beautiful muse and ever extraordinary partner in life likes to grab. But you will have to wait patiently for that part of the story to roll around to learn more. (R.C_.)

XXX

Beckett and I returned to Central Park. That was what the call was about. As we approached a park bench which had been sealed off by a circle of orange witches hats. Detective Ryan was awaiting our arrival. As we walked towards Ryan I remembered something Beckett had said to the kids. That she had gone to York Prep. Actually, I had been thinking about it all the way over here. All manner of thoughts and images had started to dance around in my head.

"I'm going to want to see pictures of those plaid skirts and knee socks." I announced.

"Excuse me?" Beckett laughed.

"I've seen those York school uniforms." I leered.

Beckett stopped walking to look at me, grinning.

"Okay, I want in on your in on your poker game." She declared.

I gave her a confused look. This made Beckett smile even more.

"I went to public school." Beckett explained. "I just told them that to make them feel comfortable."

I could only gape at her filled with surprise at what she had done.

"Oh well played, Ms Streep." I gushed.

"Which Meryl? _'Out of Africa'_ or _'Mama Mi'_?"

I could only laugh at that.

Detective Ryan greeted us with an almost put upon 'hey'. To which we simultaneously responded with 'hey'.

Detective Ryan reported that a 9-1-1 call had come in last night about fifty yards from the spot we were standing. Esposito was following up on that call. Ryan motioned to the sealed off area. Beckett and I moved a little closer but did not pass the cones. Behind the park bench we could see what at first looked like a patch of mud but on closer inspection was blood.

Ryan figured that Donny had been sitting on the bench when took one in the chest and fell backwards to land where the blood patch was and then was dragged to the lake. It seemed a reasonable summation of what probably happened last night. Glancing at Beckett I could see that she was buying it as well.

"So, what's he doing sitting on a park bench at night?" Beckett questioned.

"During my narc days, this area was pretty much an open bazaar, especially at night." Ryan said.

"A drug deal gone bad." Beckett stated.

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "Fancy private school don't mean you aren't stupid."

"Neither does a career in narcotics." I added.

I had been studying blood patch area and beyond and found something that did not look right. A theory had started to form in my head.

Beckett turned to look at me.

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

"This is a very large pool of blood." I pointed to the blood patch.

"Lanie said he was shot with a large calibre bullet."

"So, this kid is dragged when he's fresh kill." I said. "Wouldn't there be more of a blood trail?"

"He was laying here for a while." Beckett returned.

"Why would someone come back and move him?" Ryan added.

"If it was a drug dealer, then he's going to realise the cops are going to think a drug dealer if we find the body here." I continued.

"Increasing his chances of getting caught." Beckett said.

"So he drags the body over there." I said pointing in the direction of the lake. "Just to throw us off."

"I don't know, Castle. A smart drug dealer?" Ryan questioned.

"Well, everything evolves. Why not criminals?" I suggested.

I glanced across to Beckett and found her brow furrowed with a crease. I could tell that she was thinking over what I had said. I was pleased to see that she had not dismissed out of hand what I had suggested.

XXX

Detective Esposito had managed to track down the 9-1-1 caller and had invited her down to the precinct to go over some mug shots. The woman's name was Margo Falcigno a woman aged in her mid fifties. She was a life long New Yorker with the accent and attitude to go with it. A walking cliché if ever I saw one. She had taken a shine to Esposito from what I could see.

Esposito had come away from the desk where Mrs Falcigno was going through a mug book to brief Detective Beckett. He told her that Mrs Falcigno had been out walking her dog last night when she had heard the shot. A few seconds later a white dude run past her. Esposito had her going through mug books of dealers who had been arrested in that area.

"Hey detective, get over here!" Mrs Falcigno called out.

"You see someone you recognise, Mrs Falcigno?" Esposito said moving away from where Beckett was standing.

"No, I miss your sparkling personality." Mrs Falcigno shot back. "Yeah."

Mrs Falcigno pointed to a particular photo in the mug book.

"That's the guy I saw, right there." Mrs Falcigno declared.

"You sure?" Esposito questioned.

"What? Do you want to give me a lie detector? That's him." Mrs Falcigno said firmly.

Ah New Yorkers, you got to love them.

We got a name from the mug shot and then the search was on to find the suspect. It did not take all that long to find him.

XXXXXX

_**So here it is, part 1 from the next case from the Castle files. Your thoughts, opinions or suggestions would be appreciated dear reader.**_

_**Con **_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Case of Hedge Fund Home Boys

Part 2

I was standing in the observation room with Captain Montgomery. I had been a little disappointed not to be in the interrogation room with Detective Beckett. She had not exactly told me why she did not want me in there when she conducted the interrogation. My sad, pouting look did nothing to convince her to change her mind. Captain Montgomery had soothed my slightly bruised feelings by taking me into the observation room and telling me that I was in for a treat.

The suspect's name was Kent Scoville an Eminem-wannabe. I would say he would have been somewhere in his mid twenties with sandy coloured hair, a thin moustache and a pasty complexion. He was now sitting in the interrogation room. Seated opposite him was Detective Beckett.

"Do you know why you're here?" Beckett asked.

"No idea." Scoville replied.

"The arresting officer said he saw you in a hand to hand sale of narcotics in the park."

"Must have me confused with someone else." Scoville scoffed.

"Really?" Beckett said. "Is that what you're giving me? 'All drug dealers look alike'?"

Scoville gave her a smug look.

"You were arrested with with money and dope, Mr Scoville. Given the fact you have two prior felony sales on your sheet, you should probably come up with something better pretty quick."

Scoville looked at Beckett and frowned.

"Why you jamming me up like this?" He asked.

"What were you doing in the park last night?" Beckett volleyed back.

"What makes you think I was in the park last night?"

"A very reliable witness said she saw you running towards 72nd Street around midnight." Beckett informed Eminen-wannabe.

I had been watching this exchange through the glass and glanced at Captain Montgomery.

"Shouldn't she put him on his heels?" I asked. "Go straight for the shooting?"

"It's not about putting him on his heels." Captain Montgomery replied a confident look on his face as he stared through the glass. "This is about building a case for the DA."

"So I was running through the park, so what?" Scoville said.

"See?" Montgomery grinned. "She just got him to put himself at the crime scene."

I did see and I could not help but be impressed. I nodded my head and allowed a small smile to rise to my lips.

"Running isn't illegal." Beckett said. "But shooting someone is."

A look of concern crept across Scoville's face. It deepened when Beckett placed a photo of Donny on the table and pushed it toward Scoville.

"Do you recognise this person. Donny Kendall?"

Scoville glanced down at the photograph and then up at Beckett.

"Never seen him before."

"Really? How come I'm getting the feeling that you're not being completely truthful with me?"

There was a small disbelieving smile on Beckett's face when she had said that.

"Watch this." Captain Montgomery said eagerly. "Watch her now."

And I did.

"I want immunity." Scoville declared.

"From what, the mumps?" Beckett scoffed. She leaned closer towards Scoville. "You know what a three-time loser is, Scoville? It's a person facing a third felony conviction. Someone just like you."

Scoville stared at Beckett and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he considered what Beckett had just told him. In a matter of moments he seemed to reach a decision.

"Alright." Scoville said. "I seen him."

"Last night?"

"Yeah, last night." Scoville confirmed.

"Just placed him with the victim." Captain Montgomery said in a low voice.

I glanced at the Captain and saw him staring at the glass. There was a look on his face that I was well familiar with. It was a look that I would describe as one of paternal pride. Fatherly pride. He turned to look at me and his smile grew a little more. I returned the smile before turning my attention back to what was going on in the interrogation room.

"You sell to him?" Beckett demanded.

"No." Scoville shot back.

"You're a drug dealer...how'd you know him? You poker buddies?" Beckett said sarcastically.

Scoville did not reply.

"It was real nice chatting with you, Mr Scoville." Beckett gathered her things and rose from her chair. "Maybe you can drop me a line in about twenty-five years."

Beckett was only a couple of steps from the door before Scoville decided to speak.

"Alright, alright! Hold up, hold up." He called out hurriedly.

Beckett turned on her heels and focused her gaze on Eminem-wannabe and waited for him to speak.

"I sold to him." Scoville admitted.

"When?"

"Last night. A bunch of other times too." Scoville said. "Him and his little buddies."

Beckett's eyebrow rose slightly at this piece of news. It returned back in place.

"What little buddies?" She asked carefully.

"I don't know" Scoville shrugged. "Kids. Friends of his."

Beckett took a step towards the table. "Describe them."

"Couple of dudes. Couple of chicks. One was Asian. Kinda hot." Scoville's face lit up a little.

"Okay." Beckett said slowly, letting the information sink in. "So, you're telling me that you saw all of them in the park, last night, right?"

"Yeah." Scoville nodded his head.

"And now we have witnesses." Captain Montgomery said turning me and smiling brightly.

This time I did not return the smile. I was picturing the scene in the courtyard. My face hardened.

" Witnesses who lied." I said.

XXX

If you think I was a little mad about the kids having lied when we spoke to them you can well imagine Detective Beckett's reaction. You should have heard the language that came out of that pretty mouth. I wont give you a verbatim report of what was said. I'm not about to sully the delightful Detective Beckett's reputation. What I will say is that she questioned the kids parentage on several occasions.

Once more we journeyed to Redding Prep. This time we were not outside in the courtyard we were in auditorium. Brandon, Amanda, Spencer, Romy and Max were seated in the front and second row seats. Beckett was seated on a stool before them and I was resting against the stage a short distance from her.

Beckett did not waste time with them. I can't blame her. I too was ready to go in boots and all.

"You guys lied to me." Beckett said simply and directly. Like I said no pussyfooting. "You were all with Donny when he got shot, weren't you?"

There was no response from the kids but they were starting to look a little nervous. Beckett pressed on.

"Anyone know what obstruction is?" She continued.

My hand immediately shot up. This would have been the first time in all the time I had been at Redding that I had ever put up my hand to answer a question. I was never much for putting up my hand to answer a teacher's question. Then again if I had teachers like Beckett...sorry I digress.

As I said, my hand shot up. Beckett did not turn to look at me but she knew my hand was up.

"I believe that is when you deliberately give false information in a criminal case." I said eagerly.

Beckett nodded her head. "You go to prison for it." She added, her eyes sweeping across the faces arrayed before her.

The level of nervousness in the kids had risen up a notch I noticed.

"Max? Amanda?" Beckett said, looking at each of them in turn.

Amanda was the first to break. "Yeah. We were there."

"You were at the park?" Beckett clarified.

Amanda nodded her head.

"Donny was out of control. We were just trying to stop him." Romy added.

"Why don't I believe you?" I said.

"Guys, just tell the truth." Brandon said.

The other kids turned to look at him. I swear I thought I saw daggers being thrown in his direction.

Brandon with that cocky look on his face ignored the looks that had been thrown at him and continued speaking.

"Sometimes we'd go to the park too."

"We'd tell our parents we're hanging out at one of our apartments, but we'd actually go to the park and party." Spencer said. "And Donny would..."

"Would get you whatever you needed." I finished for him.

Spencer nodded his head.

"So what happened?" Beckett asked

Brandon took up the story by telling us that they were all just hanging out and having a good time, partying there at the park. Then a guy came up to them he looked all messed up and he had a gun. The man with the gun started yelling at Donny demanding to know where his money was. Donny owed him two hundred dollars.

"And Donny didn't have it." Max said. This was the first time I heard Max speak.

"Then the guy points the gun." Amanda added.

"And there's a loud pop." Romy jumped in. "And you just see Donny's body crumble."

"What did you guys do?" Beckett asked.

"We ran. We just ran." Max informed her.

"You didn't think to call the police?" Beckett tried not to sound incredulous.

"He was dead." Spencer piped up. "I mean, we knew he was dead. Calling someone..."

"Would've gotten you into trouble." I interjected.

Several heads nodded in response to what I said.

"Did you get a good look at this guy?" Beckett asked. "Do you think you'd be able to identify him?"

"It was dark." Spencer said. "Donny was at the end of the bench.

"Who was closest?" Beckett demanded.

A hand was raised and the person who had been closest was pointed out.

XXX

My first police line up! I'm sure some of you out there are thinking, with a police file as big as mine there would have been at least a couple of occasions where I would have been invited to join a line up. Well you would be wrong. I have never had that particular pleasure.

I was surprised to discover that the 12th precinct had a line up room. It was into this room we came to once we had round up enough people to participate in the line up. The room itself was a lot like the observation room but this one was a little longer and along one wall was a long set of shades. I was standing at the back of the room standing next to Captain Montgomery. Detective Beckett stood in the middle of the room.

You're wondering which of the kids was the one who was closest to Donny and who had seen the shooter, aren't you? Well wonder no more. It was Romy.

Romy was standing with her mother beside Detective Beckett. The girl was looking scared having found herself in such a situation. Beckett, now that her anger at being lied to by these kids having dissipated was all calm and assuring setting the girl at ease. Beckett told her that once the shades rose up Romy would be able to see the people lined up but they would not be able to see Romy.

Once Romy assured Detective Beckett she was ready Beckett moved across to the intercom and spoke into it.

A moment later the shades was drawn up slowly to reveal Detective Ryan standing beside the window. Lined up in a row facing the window were six white men approximately the same age and height. Each man was holding a placard which had a number on it. A couple were members of the public who were only too happy to be good citizens and assist the NYPD, the rest apart from the suspect were actual cops.

Beckett spoke into the intercom ordering man number one to step forward. Ryan repeated the order and man number one took a step forward. Beckett looked over to Romy. Romy shook her head. Man number one was ordered to step back. Man number two was ordered to step forwarded.

Man number two was our Eminem-wannabe, Kent Scoville. He took a step forward. Beckett looked at the girl and saw her hesitate.

"Do you recognise anyone?" Beckett asked.

Romy nodded her head. "Number two." She said.

"Where do you recognise him from?"

"The park." Romy said. "He shot Donny."

"Okay." Beckett nodded.

Once Romy and her mother were escorted out of the line up room Captain Montgomery, Beckett and I looked at each other and could not help but look pleased with ourselves. Our witness had fingered the suspect. Mr Scoville was going to go up the river for a long stretch. Captain Montgomery ordered Beckett to process Scoville. Before he departed from the room he commended us for our good work.

"All that's left is to do is the paperwork." Beckett announced with a smile.

Would you believe it? It was at that moment I suddenly remembered I had a meeting with my publisher. How could I have forgotten that? Really? I apologised profusely to Beckett at having to leave so soon. Beckett did not seem too put out at seeing me leave.

XXX

I have always been an observer of people. I guess that is the reason that the characters in my books seem more rounded, more three dimensional. When I was young whether riding the subway or sitting in a park I would watch people, not creepy watch I hasten to add, but just observe them. In my head I would make up stories about them. Some of those stories would find themselves put down on paper. I still like to observe people even now, and even now I still like to make stories about them. It sometimes helps to pass the time.

I had woken early and rather than turn over and go back to bed and sleep for a couple more hours I got up. My wanderings found me in Alexis' bedroom. I drew up a chair close to her bed and sat there just watching her sleep.

The only reason I could think of why I had gotten up early and found myself sitting there watching my daughter sleep had a lot to do with this recent case. Kids and drugs. It bothered me. It worried me that Alexis might be dabbling in the stuff or that some of her friends were. I know I was being totally irrational but as a parent I could not help but worry.

I think I sat there for around an hour just watching her sleep. Slowly Alexis began to stir awake as she made her way to consciousness. Still with her eyes closed she stretched out. Blinking her eyes open she was startled to see me sitting there.

"You trying to figure out how to murder someone in their sleep again?" Alexis inquired, after recovering from her initial shock.

"Not this time." I assured her with a smile.

Yes, it's true there had been one time I had been having a spot of trouble about killing off a character and wondered how I could kill them off in their sleep and to try and work it out in my head I had come into Alexis' room and sat there watching her sleep. My darling daughter was not all that pleased, after she had recovered from the shock, to learn that I was trying to find a way to kill someone in their sleep.

"Do you know when you were little, I used to watch you sleep every night before I went to bed." I said. "Just for a few minutes. It was ridiculous how adorable you were. Who'd have thought? All these years later, you're still adorable?"

"What part of snoring and drooling is adorable?" Alexis asked me.

"Well, every ten or fifteen breaths, you make a little snort sound, and then sometimes, you'll even get a little spit bubble..."

"Okay, Dad, seriously." Alexis frowned.

I guess Alexis did not like to hear of some of her sleeping habits made public. What female does, I guess?

I quickly changed the subject. "Do you do drugs?" I asked.

Alexis laughed at me. Not exactly the response I was expecting. I was kind of hoping for an emphatic 'no'.

"No." Alexis laughed.

"Are you? Because if you are, you can tell me." I assured her.

Alexis looked at me for a moment. I got the feeling that she might have been wondering if the old man had taken leave of his senses, again.

"Dad, am I lethargic and uncharacteristically irritable?" Alexis asked.

"No."

"Are my eyes bloodshot for no apparent reason?"

I looked at those baby blue eyes and saw no sign of them being bloodshot.

"No, except when you're sick."

"Well, that's an apparent reason." Alexis pointed out.

"Right." I nodded.

"Are my grades plummeting?"

"No." Thank God.

"Then, according to New York City's guidelines for parents and teachers, it's a pretty safe bet that I'm clean."

Like I've said before I am sometimes left to wonder who is the parent and who is the child in this relationship.

"You make an excellent case." I sighed.

"Parents are invited to the drug assemblies. You should come next time." Alexis said.

"Is that what the kids are calling them nowadays?"

"They have cookies."

"And which of your friends are going on this D.C. Jamboree with you?" I asked changing the subject again.

"Taylor, Kelsey and Paige."

"Okay, how do I know they're not bringing blow, and partying Winehouse style?" I challenged.

"Because you know them." Alexis shot back. "And they're good kids."

"But maybe they're icebergs."

"Does this have something to do with that Redding kid?" Alexis had a serious look on her face.

I nodded my head in answer to her question.

"Dad, he was in Central Park really, really late at night." Alexis reminded me. "That's something I would never do."

I was relieved to hear that. I can't tell you how relieved.

"But if you did, you could tell me. I don't want you to feel you ever have to lie to me. Anything you or your friends have done, believe me, I have done worse."

Seriously I could write an entire book about the escapades of my misspent youth. At least those that I can remember and the statute of limitations has expired.

"I know. But the good news is, I'm not you." Alexis said happily. "I mean, you don't have to worry. Besides if I ever got into any real trouble, my friends would be there to bail me out."

"Because that is what friends do." I said with a smile.

Suddenly the smile vanished from my face. '_Because that is what friends do'_. Once more I was transported back to the Donny Kendall case. A number of questions popped into my head. I jumped from my chair, kissed Alexis told her she could go back to sleep and rushed out the door.

XXX

The elevator doors slid open and I bounded into the bullpen. I passed Ryan and Esposito's desk. The two detectives were hard at work. I gave them a friendly greeting and then motioned to follow me as I made my way over to Detective Beckett's desk and parked myself in the chair beside Beckett's desk. I dragged the chair close to her.

There were a number of files littering Beckett's desk. No doubt the ubiquitous and endless paperwork that is the bane of every police officer. Beckett herself was on the phone. Seeing the excited look etched on my face she quickly rang off and focused her attention on me. Noticing that I was invading her personal space she leaned back a little.

"Why didn't Donny's friends just give him the money?" I asked.

"What are you talking about?" Beckett gave me a frown.

"These kids always have cash." I told her eagerly. "You're going to tell me one of them couldn't spring a few bucks to save his life?"

Esposito and Ryan had risen from their desks and had come over. My sharp eagle eyes noted that Ryan was clutching a copy of one of my books. At any other time I would have offered to autograph it for him.

"Castle, some demented drug dealer's waving a gun." Esposito said dismissively. "They probably froze up."

"But all of them?" I questioned. "He wasn't asking SAT questions, he was asking for money, something these kids probably count in their sleep."

"Look, this Scoville is a bad dude, and we got more than enough." Esposito pointed out.

"Yeah, with the girl, it's a slam dunk." Ryan added.

"And who gave you the girl?" I questioned the detectives.

Glancing at Beckett I saw the look on her face that told me she had jumped onto the Castle train of thought when it pulled into the station.

"Scoville." She said.

"So the guy's not a genius." Ryan laughed.

"Okay, okay. Say you're right." Esposito conceded grudgingly. "Why would these kids peg the wrong guy for a murder?"

"Simple." I beamed at the three detectives as I waited a suitable period of time for the dramatic pause before I gave them the zinger. "One of them did it."

Three sets of eyebrows shot up in surprise at this declaration. Beckett was the first to recover. Surprise was replaced by a thoughtful look as she weighed up what I had put forward. Slowly she nodded her head. She looked at me and I thought I saw the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of he mouth.

XXX

As luck would have it Kent Scoville had not been sent off to Central Booking. He was down in the holding cells. That is where Detective Beckett and I headed to. Beckett explained to me she wanted to have another talk with Scoville to see what she could get out of him.

The cell door was opened by one of the guards on duty and Beckett and I walked in. Scoville looked anything but pleased to see Detective Beckett walk into the cell. A scowl formed on his face. I guess you would not be all that pleased to see the cop who charged you with murder after you gave that cop the witnesses to the murder you've been charged with.

Scoville was standing next to lawyer, a guy from Legal Aid who went by the name of Ian Yankman. He wore a crumpled looking suit that probably had seen better days. Working for Legal Aid is not the path to fame and fortune but it gives you a good grounding in criminal law. Perhaps public service was more important to him than fame and fortune in the legal field. Nothing wrong with that I hasten to add. I pegged him to be in his mid thirties. He broke into a leering smile when he saw Beckett walk in.

"Hey, Beckett." Yankman said cheerfully.

"Yankman." Beckett replied flatly.

I glanced at Beckett and saw that she kept her face neutral during the exchange of greetings. I suspected that Beckett and Yankman had clashed in the past. I don't know what the score was but I'm betting that Beckett was ahead.

Yankman's eyes lingered a little too long on Beckett for my liking before he glanced in my direction and then looked back to Beckett.

"Who's the side kick?" He asked her.

Side kick, huh?

"He's a..." Beckett turned to look at me.

"Consultant?" I offered.

"Consultant." Beckett repeated, giving me a slight nod of the head.

Consultant sounds so much better than being called a side kick or tag along for that matter.

"Yeah? Well, shouldn't you consult the the consultant before you arrest the wrong guy?" Yankman challenged.

"I'm not sure I have the wrong guy yet, Yankman." Beckett said evenly.

"Well, my client's not happy. He gave you potential witnesses and then you used one of them against him."

"Your client wasn't exactly forthcoming." Beckett said. She glanced at Scoville. "But I'm willing to reconsider, if he tells me everything he knows."

"Don't trust her." Scoville said angrily.

"Seeing as how you're facing a murder charge, why don't you go with the flow?" I suggested to Scoville.

Yankman looked at his client. "Consultant-boy is right. You got nothing to lose."

Scoville thought over what his lawyer told him before he nodded his head.

"The night that Donny was killed, you sold to him and his friends, right?" Beckett asked.

"No."

"No?" Beckett said in surprise.

"Ah, that's not how you really get her to reconsider." Yankman informed his client. Surprised at the man's response.

"I didn't sell to them!" Scoville insisted. "They was working for me."

"Working for you?" Beckett did not hide the look of confusion on her face.

Scoville nodded his head before he spoke. "I supplied that punk. Alright? His friends bought off me too. Then they'd go play dealer, selling to the upscales in Sheep's Meadow."

"Wait a minute." Beckett said. "They sold for you?"

"Donny, yeah." Scoville nodded his head. "The others, it was just like a goof. A walk on the wild side. Like truth or dare."

"So, where were you when Donny got shot?" Beckett asked.

"I was hanging with my boys, down by the Alice in Wonderland statue." Scoville informed her. "We didn't see nothing. We heard the shot and took off."

"What about the gun?"

"I told you, I don't pack." Scoville insisted.

Yankman opened the rather large file he had been holding and his smile grew wide.

"Criminal record with no firearms convictions does sort of give it a ring of truth." Yankman said smugly. "If past is prologue, how we doing on reconsideration?"

Detective Beckett did not say anything. She glared at the smug looking Legal Aid lawyer. She turned on her heels and walked out of the cell. I quickly fell into step beside her wisely remaining silent. Yankman just had to have the last word.

"Don't have to answer if you don't want." He called out, laughing. "I know the answer. Any time. Any time, Beckett."

I could almost see the wisps of smoke rising up from the silent but fuming Beckett as we made our way upstairs.

Our next stop once we got upstairs was Captain Montgomery's office. He was not at all pleased to be told that we did not think Scoville was not the murderer. His face darkened with anger and his moustache bristled, yeah his moustache bristled at the news.

"You got to be kidding me." He exclaimed. "I already told the brass that we got the guy."

"I can see how that could be awkward." I ventured sympathetically.

"The Mayor even called to thank me." Montgomery said looking at Beckett. Suddenly he turned to look at me and his face brightened a little. "He's in for the Knick's game, by the way."

"Sweet." I crowed. I reached for my phone to send a text.

After the Tisdale case I had invited Captain Montgomery to join my poker game with my Gotham City crew. It was my way of saying thank you for letting me help out to solve the case. From time to time I was given good tickets for basketball games and I would invite members of the crew to the game. We had some really good seats for the next game.

"Look," Beckett interrupted and drawing us back to the case. "I know everyone likes the violent drug dealer for this..."

"No." Montgomery interjected. "We love the violent drug dealer for this."

"Only, the violent drug dealer's story makes more sense than our witnesses'." Beckett sighed.

"I know I'm new here, but aren't you supposed to arrest the right guy?" I said.

Captain Montgomery frowned as he thought it over. "Okay." He said. "Go talk to the girl again."

Both Beckett and I nodded.

"But my violent drug dealer stays where he is until I say so." He added. Then he looked at me and his face brightened. "See you at the game."

"Got it." I shot back with a smile.

Beckett did not have to make any comment about the game as we walked out of the captain's office. A roll of her eyes and a shake of her head spoke enough volumes.

XXXXX

_**Your reviews are always greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Case of Hedge Fund Home Boys

Part 3

Romy Lee and her family lived in a luxury apartment that no doubt would have cost a fortune. Beckett and I were shown into the living room and area that was furnished with tasteful but expensive furniture. Mr and Mrs Lee were seated together on a small couch. Romy was seated on a larger couch. Beckett and I, as becoming usual were seated together directly opposite her.

Riding up the elevator to the apartment there was a glint in Beckett's eye which I interpreted as that she was going to get to the bottom of this. She was going to find out why the girl had lied. I have to admit I was getting a little annoyed with these kids. These kids who had been Donny Kendall's friends.

"So, this dealer asked Donny for the couple hundred that he owed him, right?" Beckett said to Romy.

"Yeah." The girl nodded her head.

Romy Lee looked decidedly uncomfortable under Beckett's steady gaze. You could say that she was nervous.

"And Dony told him he didn't have it?"

"Right." Romy replied.

Beckett rose from her seat.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your purse?"

Mrs Lee spoke up at this request, wanting to know why Detective Beckett wanted her daughter's purse. Beckett glanced at Mrs Lee before she turned her gaze on the even more nervous Romy.

"I can get a warrant if you want." She said.

Romy hesitated, glancing at her concerned looking parents hoping they would come to her rescue but they only stared back at her. With great reluctance she handed over the expensive looking purse.

"Gucci." Beckett remarked as she opened the purse and inspected the contents. She pulled out a wallet.

"What does my bag have to do with anything?" Romy asked as she watched Beckett.

"If Donny was such a good friend, why did you let him get shot?" Beckett asked her.

"Let him?"

Beckett opened the wallet and found what she was looking for. She pulled out several hundred dollar bills. She showed the bills to Romy.

"You had more than enough money to pay off the guy." Beckett said. "I bet you all had enough more than enough."

Another nervous look swept across Romy's young face as she looked up at Beckett.

"And yet Donny is dead. Why didn't any of you front him the money?"

I must say I was rather enjoying watching this little scene unfolding. I kind of regretted not having some popcorn.

"What are you implying?" Mr Lee demanded.

Like a good father, Mr Lee rose to the defence of his daughter.

"She isn't implying." I said speaking up. As much as I would have liked to sit back and watch the rest of it I had to speak up. Yeah, okay, I find it hard to keep quiet. I looked at Mr Lee and continued speaking. "She's saying that your daughter is lying about what happened that night."

"There wasn't a guy, was there, Romy." Beckett continued.

Romy knew that she had been caught out. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at her father.

"What really happened to Donny that night?" Beckett pressed.

Then it came out. Romy said that the shooting had been an accident. They had been playing a game, like Russian Roulette. It had not been the first time they had played this game, they used to do it all the time.

Looking over to the Lees I saw both mother and father were horrified to hear what their daughter had been doing. The thought of their daughter, their 'good girl', playing with guns was almost too much for them to comprehend. I could sympathise with what they were feeling right at the moment. I would be feeling pretty much the same if it had been Alexis. No, scratch that, I would probably go through the roof and then some.

In answer to a question from Detective Beckett, Romy explained that they had gotten the gun from Spencer. There was never meant to be any bullets in the gun. They usually would just point the gun and pull the trigger just feel what it was like. Spencer had supplied the bullets when they had gone up to his summer house just to shoot at some cans. Romy figured that there must have been a bullet still left in the gun when they had been playing with it in the park.

"Who shot him?" Beckett asked.

Romy with tears streaming down her face looked to her silent parents.

"Romy, look at me." Beckett said sharply. The girl slowly turned to face Beckett. "Who shot Donny?"

"Max." She answered fighting back tears. "It was Max."

XXX

After leaving the Lee's apartment and heading for her car I could not help but ask what was going to happen to Romy. When the interview with Romy was over, Beckett had simply told the girl that she would be hearing from the police again. So curiosity got the better of me, and I had to ask.

The look that Beckett gave me was somewhere between anger an annoyance. At first I thought she might have been annoyed at me for having asked the question. I am pleased to say that she was not annoyed at me. She was angry and annoyed about being lied to and having police time and resources wasted. As to the fate of Romy Lee, she had not made up her mind yet. If you're asking me, I would not like to be in Romy Lee's shoes right now.

Detectives Esposito and Ryan met us at Max Heller's. Beckett had called them after we had left the Lees apartment filling them in on what Romy had told us. She ordered them to get a warrant and meet us at Max Heller's apartment.

The door to the apartment was answered by a woman aged in her early fifties. A startled look appeared on her face find four people standing in her doorway. Detective Beckett showed Mrs Heller her badge.

"Detective Beckett, NYPD." She announced. "I'm looking for Max Heller, is here?"

"No. I'm his mother." Mrs Heller replied, the concern deepening on her. "What's going on?"

"I need to see him right now, Mrs Heller. Do you know where he is?"

"No, I don't. What is it?"

"I have a warrant for his arrest." Beckett informed her. Esposito, standing next to her passed over the warrant. Beckett handed it to Mrs Heller.

"A warrant?" The colour drained from Mrs Heller's face as she looked at the arrest warrant in her hands. "Oh, my God. What for?"

"He's wanted for murder, Mrs Heller. Do you understand?"

Though Mrs Heller was shocked to hear that her son was wanted for murder she managed to nod her head in answer to Beckett's question. I could not but help but feel for the poor woman right at that moment.

"I need you to go and call him on his cell, find out where he is." Beckett instructed. "Tell him not to move. Everything is going to be alright, but I need you to do it now."

The hapless Mrs Heller nodded her head and stepped away from the front door moving inside to do what Beckett had asked. Beckett looked over to Esposito.

"Get a photograph of him for the APB, please."

"Right." Esposito replied as he entered the apartment and caught up with Mrs Heller.

Detective Ryan's cell phone shattered the uncomfortable silence. He moved aside and quickly answered it. He listened a moment, then called out to Beckett and held the phone out to her. Beckett took it and answered it. A moment later I saw a stunned look hit her.

"What? Where?" She said. "Okay."

Beckett rang off and passed the phone back to Ryan. Esposito returned to the door holding a framed photograph of Max Heller. She turned to look at him.

"Kid's not answering his cell phone." Esposito reported. "Mom thinks maybe he went to the park."

"Yeah, he went to the park." Beckett sighed. "...And killed himself."

At that moment Mrs Heller returned to the front door.

"So, what now? What should I do?" Mrs Heller said. She noticed the stunned look on Beckett's face. "What?"

Oh boy. How do you break the news to the mother of the kid you want to arrest for murder he's been found dead in the park because he shot himself. Well Detective Beckett managed to do it. She recovered from the shock of being told that Max Heller had been found shot dead and then stoically broke the news to his mother as gently as she could. I wont go into details describing that particular scene.

On leaving Mrs Heller's apartment Beckett wanted to go the park where Max Heller had been found. I would have loved to have accompanied her but I had other plans for the evening.

XXX

When I woke up the following morning several things caught my sleep fogged notice. One, the sunlight filtering through the windows was far too bright for this time of the morning. Secondly, I had fallen asleep in my office. At my desk with my laptop resting on my lap to be exact. I had come home around midnight. After the Knick's game, Montgomery, the Mayor, Judge Markway and I had gone for drinks. There's this place that I like to go sometimes where privacy of its clients is assured. I seemed to recall I had knocked back a fair few whiskies before calling it a night and heading home. Instead of going to bed I decided to sit down and write, do a little more work on the new novel.

I must have fallen asleep while I was writing. The screen saver on the laptop was scrolling across with the words: 'You Should Be Writing'. I have to thank Alexis for that particular screen saver. She had downloaded it not all that long ago when she found me asleep, or staring off into space at my desk one too many times.

The third thing was, I found was said daughter wide awake and staring at me. My first thought on seeing Alexis staring at me was that she was paying me back for finding me sitting and staring at her when she was sleeping the other day.

"If you're looking for lunch money, my wallet's on the nightstand." I said sleepily. I had discounted the first thought and had gone with my second thought as to why I would find my daughter staring at me so early in the morning. I was wrong with my second thought.

"I lied to you, Dad." Alexis announced.

"Oh, can this wait?" It was too early in the morning for me to be hearing confessions.

"No. You need to know." Alexis insisted.

The urgency in her voice caught my attention as did the look on her face. Her eyes were red rimmed from recent crying.

"Oh. Yeah, okay." I said stifling a yawn.

While I struggled to come fully awake Alexis told her tale that had her filled with so much remorse that she felt compelled to confess to me. It had been the holiday formal. Alexis and a friend of hers had gone to another friend's house after the formal. After leaving that friend's house it was already raining. After trying for half an hour to get a taxi they had decided to take the subway.

I told her that considering that getting a cab in the rain was like winning the Powerball jackpot, I was happy to forgive her.

Alexis had not finished her tale of woe. Apparently Alexis' friend Kelsey had gone through the gates so she could hold the door of the train which was arriving. When Alexis went to swipe her card she discovered that it was empty and she did not have time to add money to it and her friend was shouting at her to come on as the train was pulling into the station. Alexis said she was so tired and was anxious to get home that she...wait for it...jumped the turnstile.

During Alexis' retelling of the story I had come fully awake, her look of worry and anxiousness had dragged the last remnants of sleep from me. There was a part of me that was a little concerned about what she was going to confess. I guess what happened to Donny and Max and the other Redding kids had me going into 'worried parent mode'.

"Did you make the train?" I inquired.

"Yeah." Alexis replied. "But the point is I lied to you. Even after you were so sweet and concerned yesterday. I'm sorry."

I can't begin to tell you how relieved I was. A smile rose to my face but I quickly suppressed it.

"You actually jumped the turnstile?" I said. Who hasn't jumped the turnstile at least once, right?

"But I swiped my card twice the next day and didn't even ride." Alexis assured me.

"Okay. Sweetie." I sighed. "If that's the worst thing you've done, I'm a happy, happy man."

"But I lied to you." Alexis said. "Shouldn't you punish me?"

"Yes. No, you're right." I agreed. I tried to find a suitable punishment. "Mandatory ice cream for breakfast. No excuses."

Alexis gave me a pointed look as if I was not taking this as seriously as she was.

"I'm serious. If you don't I will."

"I'm serious about the ice cream." I told her.

"Fine. I'm grounded for a week." Alexis announced.

"Alright. You're tough but fair."

"After the D.C. Trip." She added.

"That's my girl." I smiled.

"Thanks, Dad."

A relieved and smiling Alexis moved up to give me a hug and a kiss before she practically skipped out of the office. I could not help but smile and then let out a long sigh of relief.

XXX

My arrival in the bullpen was greeted by the sight a sombre looking Detective Beckett sitting at her desk. She was filling out forms. I could tell that she was not happy at the way the case had turned out.

"Hey, What are you doing?" I asked as I sat down.

Beckett paused in her work to look at me.

"Paperwork to dismiss the homicide charges against Scoville." Beckett said. She reached for a file and passed it over to me.

"Ballistics." Beckett announced. "Confirms that the gun used on Donny in the park was the same one Max used on himself."

I opened the file and quickly went over it. I looked up from the file to see Beckett frowning even more.

"I'm usually better at reading people."

"You spent about half an hour with Max." I offered in consolation. "There's no way you could have seen that coming."

I set down the ballistics report and looked at Beckett.

"Poor kid must have been a mess." Beckett shook her head. "Imagine shooting your friend and then having to lie about it."

I nodded my head my head in agreement. As I thought it over something else struck me a little odd.

"Well, he did more than just lie about it." I ventured.

Beckett gave me a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"He went back and moved his friend's body." I pointed out.

"He went back and moved his friend's body." Beckett repeated. A thoughtful look appeared on her face as she considered what I had said. "Having the presence of mind to move the body isn't exactly consistent with a guilty conscience, is it?"

"I'd say that's more an act of a cold-blooded killer." I suggested, leaning closer toward her.

I could almost hear the wheels turning in Beckett's head. An eager expression now settled on her face as she looked over at me.

"And a cold-blooded killer doesn't suddenly feel guilty to commit suicide, does he?"

"Not in any story I would write." I assured her.

"So, if we're right, and Max didn't move Donny's body, then who did?" Beckett asked.

That was a very good question Detective Beckett posed. At the time I did not have an answer to that question. What I immediately took away from that particular exchange was the fact that Beckett had said 'we were right'. Emphasis on the 'we'. I think this was the first time Beckett had gone anywhere close to admitting that I might have been right about something. That was okay, I still maintained the hope that one day she would come right out and say that I had been right about something.

For the next half hour I had the pleasure of watching Beckett complete the paperwork that would see Kent Scoville being released and tossed back out into the world in the hopes that one day soon he would be caught for something that he actually did. Having seen Scoville that hope would not be too long in being realised.

When I said that I spent half an hour watching Beckett doing paperwork, I might have exaggerated just a little. After about ten minutes of watching Beckett filling in boxes and checking other boxes and signing her name on the bottom of one page after another I grew bored. I fished out my phone and started playing one of the games that I had on it.

Paperwork and playing games on my phone was interrupted by a call from Dr Parish. Beckett passed the rest of the paperwork Esposito to complete, then grabbed her things and we head out to answer the summons from the Medical Examiner.

XXX

Dr Lanie Parish escorted Beckett and myself to the cold storage area and I found myself in a room facing a bank of freezers where the stiffs were stored. Sorry, that sounds a little cold—pardon the pun—where the remains of the deceased were cached prior to their proper disposal. Does that sound a little better?

Dr Parish walked over to one of the doors, opened it and pulled out the tray on where the body of Max Heller rested.

"Looks like your basic, garden-variety suicide." Lanie announced, glancing down at the body.

"But you said on the phone that there was something that wasn't consistent with a suicide." Beckett said.

"Looks like a suicide." Lanie nodded. She reached down and lifted up Max's right hand. "But his shooting hand, more specifically, his right index finger, has has a slight abrasion."

Both Beckett and I leaned a little closer to inspect the finger. I could not see anything.

"It's visible only under the scope." Lanie informed us. "Department autopsy protocol doesn't even call for that kind of thing."

"And the abrasion means what to you?" Beckett looked at Lanie.

"That someone may have helped him pull the trigger." Lanie reported. "Plus, toxicology has his blood alcohol content at point two eight."

"Point two eight!" I exclaimed in surprise.

"So, he was drunk." Beckett said.

"Waayy drunk." I emphasised.

Back in my college days there had been one or two parties I attended where the booze was chugged down like it was water. I can remember that I might have reached levels of point two eight and them some. Thankfully I did not have to operate any heavy machinery, instead being left to sleep it off but the day after I did suffer one mother of all hang overs that lasted for a couple of days that forced me to swear off drinking for all time, only to break that vow when I got invited to another party a day later. But I digress.

"At point two eight, he may not have even been conscious." Lanie informed us.

Beckett's eyes suddenly narrowed. "So, Max was murdered."

XXX

"Whoever staged Max's suicide wanted us to believe that he killed himself out of guilt over shooting Danny." Detective Beckett declared.

Detective Beckett and I had returned from the visit to the morgue and we were walking up the stairs of the precinct. Beckett had been a little too impatient to wait for the elevator to arrive so she had made a bee line for the stairs.

"Yet the kids corroborated Romy's story that Max pulled the trigger."

Reaching the fourth floor I moved ahead and pushed open the door to allow Beckett to go through first. I quickly fell into step alongside her as we made our way through the bullpen.

"I didn't say he didn't shoot him. I said he didn't kill him."

I was confused by that statement. "Is that a Zen koan one-hand clapping thing?" I asked her.

Beckett stopped walking and turned to face me.

"These kids played a game pretending to shoot each other." Beckett said. "What if one of them wanted Donny dead for real? What better way than to get someone else to pull the trigger?"

I considered what Beckett had said. It made sense.

"You think one of the other kids put the bullet in the gun without Max knowing."

"That's our killer." Beckett declared and started walking to her desk.

My face lit up. "Oh, I like that." I breathed.

XXX

Regrettably I had to forego the pleasure of sitting in on Beckett's interrogation of Spencer, the kid who had supplied the gun. My presence was required at a meeting with my publishers. With the publishing date of 'Storm Fall' rapidly approaching a few details had to be nailed down. Having to sit through a meeting with Gina my publisher and ex-wife number two, and my agent Paula Haas is not my idea of fun. I usually leave those meetings with a terrible head ache and questioning my decision of ever becoming an author. Most of the time I feel that I'm not really needed and the other times I feel like I'm a referee in a boxing match, stepping in to stop the two combatants before they claw each other's eyes out.

So while I sat in a conference room at Black Pawn wondering whether I was going to be a referee or just ignored, Detective Beckett went to work on Spencer.

Beckett recounted to me later on what had occurred during the interrogation.

Spencer, a tall kid with curly black hair and a swarthy complexion sat at the table looking terrified. I suppose having to confront an angry Detective Beckett would terrify most men whatever their age.

Spencer had come in with his lawyer.

Beckett had accused the kid of bringing the bullets, a charge Spencer did not deny claiming that it was to screw around. If by screwing around, you mean intentionally putting a bullet in a chamber, knowing that Max was going to shoot Donny, then she and Spencer were in total agreement Beckett had retorted.

Beckett then question if the point of the game was to shoot without bullets then why would he have bullets unless he intended to use them. Spencer came back with the declaration that he did not know that there were bullets in the gun.

The kid was getting really getting frightened more than likely realising that this was no longer a game.

Beckett then told Spencer that it was his gun, his bullets and from where she was standing he looked like the guy who had done it. Before Spencer had a chance to deny the accusation levelled at him Beckett asked where he had been between 6.30 and 9.00 the previous night.

A thoroughly shaken Spencer supplied that he was at his father's club, The Century, and he was with Brandon. Beckett expressed the thought that Spencer should hope that Brandon could corroborate that before she left the kid to cool his heels while she checked out his alibi.

XXX

The Universe must have taken pity on me because the meeting at the Black Pawn took a lot less time than I thought it would. I had agreed to do the usual number of book signings and readings around town as well a few out of town, as well a raft of interviews for with print and TV media. That was par for the course when ever I had a new book coming out.

Thankfully there was nothing else to discuss for the time being. I could not get out of there fast enough. Once down on the street I sent a text to Detective Beckett informing her I had been released from my imprisonment. She texted right back telling me to meet her at Redding Prep. I raced in search of a cab.

I met up with Detective Beckett at the front of Redding Prep where she filled me in on what Spencer had revealed during his interrogation and what we were doing back at Redding Prep.

We found ourselves in the school cafeteria which was currently empty. Not a great deal had changed my days here, the posters on the walls seemed not unlike the ones that I remembered. The colour scheme on the walls was the same only they had been repainted a few times since. One thing I notice immediately were the tables. The tables were large round ones. Back in my day there were long trestle tables that looked like they should have been in a prison movie.

Beckett and I were seated at a table with Brandon seated on the other side of the table. Brandon had that same smarmy, cocky expression on his face that had worn the last time we talked to him. It struck me that he reminded me of a young version of Tom Cruise only with a bad hair cut.

"I know that Romy and Spencer told you guys everything and that we're all in big trouble." Brandon said. "But I'm glad."

"You're glad?" Beckett said, sounding a little surprised.

"Yes. We should have just come clean with you guys after the accident."

"You're damn right you should have." Beckett said tersely.

"I know. But we didn't want to screw Max over."

"That's why you fingered the drug dealer?" I said "Because he's expendable."

Brandon claimed that he had told Romy it was wrong to finger the drug dealer but she wanted to protect Max. It was the drug dealer was the one who had gotten Donny into dealing in the first place.

"So where were you when Max was killed?" I asked.

"With Spencer, at his Dad's club." Brandon replied with a smirk on his face. "Ask him, he'll confirm it."

"You guys always have your stories straight, don't you?" Beckett said with barely suppressed anger. "'We weren't in the park'. 'It was the drug dealer'. 'It was Max'. You guys are always in sync. Maybe that's why I don't believe you."

Brandon continued to smirk not flinching at the accusation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He glanced at Detective Beckett.

"You don't have to believe me." He told her. "I have proof."

He looked down at the phone in his hands and he switched it on. He looked up again. He explained they take videos just for laughs, doing crazy things. Romy's father was is a big IT guy and he hooked all them up with a file share over Bluetooth. That way they all would get the files. He paused again to look down at his phone before he announced that Amanda had shot this the night Donny had been shot.

"What is it?" Beckett demanded.

"A video." Brandon informed her. "Of Donny getting shot."

That piece of information surprised me. A glance in Beckett's direction told me that she too was surprised.

"We were all supposed to have erased it." Brandon continued. "But I knew that if the truth came out, we'd all be screwed. And after what happened to those kids in the Duke case I just didn't want to end up like that."

Brandon pressed the play button on the phone and passed it across to Detective Beckett. I moved in closer to view the video. The picture was dark and the camera work was jerky but the faces were recognisable. There was a shot of Brandon raising a flask to his lips and taking a pull of the alcohol. The others around him were encouraging him. Brandon passed the flask to Romy and she took a drink from it. Then we saw Donny calling out 'let's do this'. He stands on the park bench. Then there was Max raising the gun and pointing it directly at Donny. Moments later there is a gun shot.

The sound of the gun shot startled me, seeing the kid getting shot made me look away from the video. I heard a few shrieks and a couple of 'oh my Gods', then the video ended.

XXX

To say that seeing the video left me unsettled would have been an understatement.

I have always loved watching horror movies. I have seen all the 'Saw' movies and 'Friday the Thirteenths', 'Halloweens' and many others that I could name. I love blood and gore movies I have always found them fun. The bloodier the better, as someone once said, and that is a sentiment that I subscribe to. Yet however bloody or gory the movie was I knew in the back of my mind that this is all make believe. It's not real. It's just someone's fantasies brought to life on the screen. Seeing Donny getting shot shocked me. I had never seen anything like that before and I hope never to see again.

In the car driving back to the precinct I was subdued and in a reflective mood. I could only imagine how Donny's parents would react if or when they saw that video. Beckett too had been a little subdued.

"You okay?" Beckett asked, breaking into my thoughts.

"I was just thinking about Donny's parents. What they'll go through when they watch that video." I said. "Guess it's not too often you get a murder caught on tape, huh?"

"Yeah, well he was smart to keep it." Beckett replied. "Otherwise they'd all be facing manslaughter

charges."

Beckett was right. It was smart of Brandon to keep the video and I could understand why he had kept the video while the others had deleted it. Yet there was something else about this video that I found curious.

"Yeah. It was pretty smart of him when you think about it, wasn't it?" I murmured.

"Beckett glanced across to me. "I know that tone, Castle."

"I'm just saying, it's pretty lucky they filmed their little game that night."

"Yeah, well people post crazy stuff on you Tube."

That is so true. Some times at night when I'm bored I will surf through You Tube looking for something to amuse me. I've seen videos of singing cats and dancing dogs and everything in between and then some. People truly do post really crazy stuff on You Tube.

"I get filming it the first few times. It's exciting." I said as I looked across to Beckett. "But the tenth time? The fifteenth? What was so special about that night?"

"Donny got shot."

"So the only reason to film it is..."

"You knew something was going to happen." Beckett finished.

We shared a satisfied smile.

XXXXX

_**What do you think?**_

_**Con **_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Case of Hedge Fund Home Boys

Part 4

Beckett decided to haul in Amanda in for questioning. After all she had been the one who had shot—again, pardon the pun—the video. While the girl was cooling her heels in the interrogation room Beckett had made a call to Mrs Kendall to get some background information. Beckett learned that Donny had been dating Amanda but had broken it off a month ago. I found that very interesting news.

Beckett opened the door to the interrogation room and I followed her in. We found Amanda leaning against the far wall. She had a punk/ emo thing going on, ring through the nose and a tattoo on her chest. I'm sure her parents would have been totally thrilled when she had walked through the front sporting this new look.

"You weren't in school today, Amanda." Beckett remarked.

Beckett remained standing looking over to where the girl was. In deference to Beckett I too remained standing.

"So? I wasn't up to it." Amanda shrugged.

"Yes. Lying can be so exhausting." I said.

"So can losing two friends." Amanda retorted.

"We saw the video." Beckett said.

"Brandon told me. So now you know everything."

Amanda eased herself off the wall and paced back and forth. She was trying not to look nervous but failing badly.

"Why did you shoot the video?" I asked.

"I don't know." Amanda shrugged again. "We did lots of times."

"When was the last time?" I pressed. "Before that night?"

"I don't remember." Amanda said. "Look, I thought you said you saw what happened?"

"We did." I said. "We're just not sure why we saw what happened."

"Your decision to make a video that does not make sense." Beckett picked up the ball. "Unless you knew something was going to happen."

A shocked look appeared on the girl's face. She stared at Beckett.

"You think I knew? It was totally an accident." the girl insisted. "There's no way I could've known Donny was going to get shot."

"Sure there is." Beckett announced. "If you're the one who put the bullet in the gun."

Amanda looked stunned at that accusation. Beckett and I told her that we had spoken to Donny's mother who confirmed that she and Donny had been dating and that Donny had broke up with her about a month ago.

The girl tried to do a nice impersonation of a fish out of water with its mouth moving up and down.

"Oh my God" Amanda gasped.

"It gives you motive, Amanda." Beckett informed her.

"It's not what happened." Amanda insisted, with a note of desperation in her voice. "Yes, Donny broke up with me. But only because he found out I had hooked up with Brandon."

"Brandon?" Beckett said.

"Everything with his family...Donny checked out." Amanda paused and shook her head. "He wasn't there for me and Brandon was."

"I bet he was." I said sarcastically.

"It's not like that. Brandon is a really good guy." Amanda shot back.

"A good guy who kept the only copy of a video he told us you shot." I said.

"If Brandon kept the video, he had his reasons."

"Brandon told you to shoot the video that night, didn't he?" I declared.

"Yeah." the girl conceded.

I turned to look at Detective Beckett and could not help but smile. I think we had found our murderer. She gave me a slight nod of the head. She agreed with me.

Spencer was brought back in for questioning again. This time I did sit on on the interrogation. It did not take Beckett long to break the kid down and confess that he had not been with Brandon at the night of Max Heller's murder.

XXX

Beckett and I returned to Redding Prep and eventually found Brandon, or as I was starting to think of him, Tom Cruise with a bad hair cut on the front steps of one of the school buildings. He looked up at our approach and greeted us with that confident cocky smile of his. I was definitely beginning to dislike this kid more and more.

"Guess who changed his story." I called out to him.

"Your buddy, Spencer." Beckett added.

"Your comrade just gave up your alibi for Max's murder." I said.

"You mean Max's suicide, don't you?" Brandon said casting me a look. "Last I checked , I wouldn't need an alibi for that, would I?"

The thought of reaching out and strangling this kid certainly crossed my mind. Thankfully I was able rein in that particular thought quickly.

"The medical examiner concluded that Max's death was a homicide." Beckett said evenly.

Brandon turned his attention to Detective Beckett and regarded her a moment. A smile rose to his lips.

"Oh, well, I'm sure there are any number of experts we can hire who will disagree with a city employee."

There was a note of disdain in the kid's voice when he said the words 'city employee'.

"Expert witnesses. Scrambling for alibis?" I said. "Sounds like you're building a defence."

Brandon glanced at me and smirked. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"You guys have been running around accusing everyone of murder." He said. "I figured my turn was coming and I'd better be ready."

"Only we know you it was you." Beckett told him. "All three of your friends have solid alibis for the night Max was killed."

"You say killed. I say suicide." Brandon smirked.

"Where were you that night?" Beckett tried another tack.

"I took a walk." Brandon said confidently. "I knew you guys wouldn't believe me so I asked Spencer to cover for me."

"And that's what you guys do, right? Cover for each other?" I challenged.

"Exactly." Brandon nodded. He turned to Beckett and his smile grew a little more.

I did not like the way the kid was looking at her but kept my thoughts to myself. The urge to strangle him had risen another notch.

"Look, Detective, you're hot and everything, but if you had any actual evidence, you'd have arrested me already." He paused and shrugged his shoulders. "Me? I have a video that proves Max killed Donny. You really think a jury is going to believe he didn't get drunk and off himself?"

Brandon rose to his feet from where he had been sitting, signalling that he was done with this interview.

"This is just a game for you, isn't it?" Beckett challenged. "Like selling drugs in the park."

Brandon continued to smirk at Beckett. He let his eyes roam up and down her body before he looked up at her.

"Well, if it was, looks I'd be winning." He said confidently. "But, hey, if you think I did it, lets see you prove it."

With that challenge thrown down Brandon walked away from us. I definitely wanted to strangle that kid. Looking at Beckett I got the impression she wouldn't make to much of an effort to stop me.

"I hate that kid!" I hissed.

Detective Beckett did not respond to my remark but I could tell she shared my opinion. Before she turned and started back to her car, I detected a look in her eye. It was the kind of look of someone who had just accepted a challenged and there was no way in the world they were going to lose that challenge. Falling into step beside her we walked in silence back to the car. I could not help but think that Tom Cruise with a bad hair cut was going to find out that it was not a good idea to mess with one Detective Kate Beckett.

XXX

I was seated beside Detective Beckett's desk. On her desk were a couple of stacks of files. Beckett and I had been going through them for the past couple of hours with the only break being one or two coffee runs to the break room. My eyes were starting to go crossed as I read one file after another but finding nothing that would of help to us with the current case. I finished reading the file I held in my hands, finding nothing yet again. I closed the file and set it on top of the growing stack of files we had already gone through.

"You know, actually having to prove things is really tedious." I remarked with an exaggerated sigh.

Beckett looked up from the file she was reading and gave me a small smile.

"Welcome to my world."

"Brandon had all this planned." I intoned wearily. "He gets Max to shoot Donny, then gets Max drunk and kills him."

"There's no such thing as a perfect crime, Castle."

"Not yet." I grinned. "But one day I'm going to write it."

Beckett smiled at that remark of mine before turning her attention back to the file she had been going over. I reached for another file to peruse.

Detectives Esposito and Ryan returned to the bullpen and made their way over to Beckett's desk.

"Okay." Ryan announced, drawing both Beckett's and my attention. "We canvassed every store, stand, and homeless guy from the park's entrance at 72nd to the scene..."

"And no one remembers seeing Max or Brandon that night." Esposito added.

Beckett frowned at the news from Esposito and Ryan. I too was not happy to hear what they had to report.

"If we can't put Brandon at Max's murder scene, then the D.A. Will never move." Beckett said unhappily.

"These kids were hooked on video sharing, there has to be something." I mused.

"I already scrolled through every video, audio, photo and text file on that thing." Ryan said pointing to Max's phone that was cocooned in an evidence bag and sitting on Beckett's desk.

"Guess we weren't lucky enough to have Max take video of Brandon killing him." Esposito said.

"Funny thing is, if he did, Brandon would've known." I told them. "It would've popped up on his shared as soon as their phones..."

"Synced." Beckett supplied.

"Thank you." I said looking at her.

"Synced." Beckett repeated.

There was a look on Beckett's face which I could only describe as a light bulb moment. She reached for the evidence bag.

"If they were together when Max was murdered, then their phones would've automatically synced. There'd be a record."

I watched expectantly as Beckett removed the phone from the evidence bag. She switched it on and then started to scroll through the phone's menus. She found what she was looking for and pulled up the records. She stopped cold and looked up surprised. A moment later a smile swept across her face. Beckett held out the phone to me and I took it and saw what had made her smile. I too began to smile. I showed the boys what Beckett had found and they started smiling.

Got you!

XXX

I was all for getting Tom Cruise with a bad hair cut brought in and charged. Beckett, who had more experience in this field than I did agreed that they had enough evidence to charge Brandon but for the case to stick she needed a confession from him. Beckett sent out Esposito and Ryan to bring Brandon in.

A couple of hours later Brandon was brought in and was now in one of the interrogation rooms. While Ryan and Esposito were rounding up our killer, Beckett prepared herself for the coming interrogation. We both knew that this cocky kid was so sure of himself that he would not be an easy nut to crack. We bounced a couple of idea of how we would handle it. I was a little surprised when she considered one of my suggestions and she agreed to go with it.

"Ready." Beckett announced as she rose to her feet and gathered her things.

"Let's get this show on the road." I grinned back.

Detective Beckett strode into the interrogation room to find Brandon sitting at the table alone. I followed her in, closing the door behind me. Brandon had a bored expression on his face as if his valuable time was being wasted being hauled into the precinct.

"You have the right to a lawyer present, Brandon." Beckett informed him as she took her seat at the table. "If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you."

"He could afford a million lawyers." I told Beckett as I took my seat.

"She still has to advise me of my rights, right?" Brandon said, amused at the proceedings unfolding here in this room.

"Right." Beckett agreed.

"Anyway, that's cool." Brandon said turning his attention to Detective Beckett. "I don't want a lawyer. This is way more fun." He gave Beckett a smarmy, leering kind of look.

Beckett regarded the kid for a moment as if she was weighing up what he had just said.

"Maybe you'd just like to sign a confession, then?" Beckett suggested offering him a pen and paper.

"Sure." Brandon said.

Beckett passed the pen and paper to him. Brandon made as if he was writing.

"I confess..." Brandon paused and looked across the table to Beckett. His eyes lingered on her chest before they lifted. "...that I'm dying to cop a feel under your cop blouse."

Brandon dropped the pen to the table and smirked at her. "Now, I feel so much better."

Beckett looked back at the kid and didn't flinch. Didn't react to what he had said. I suppose being an attractive woman, Beckett would have been hit on by all manner of criminals and suspects more times than she had hot dinners. She would have been used to it, possibly even expected it. A puerile come on from a post pubescent teenager would barely register if at all. For just a nano second I almost felt sorry for Tom Cruise with the bad hair cut. He had no idea who he was dealing with. He did not know that he was way in over his head.

Beckett did not respond to Brandon's sleazy remark. She turned to look at me, I detected an amused glint in her eye as she gave me an imperceptible nod of the head. That was my queue to take the stage. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my phone.

"You sure you don't want to call somebody?" I offered. "Your parents, maybe?"

"Why would I worry then?" Brandon said dismissively.

"You know, I made a call just a little while ago to my bookie."

"Sweet." Brandon interjected, looking bored.

"I was standing in the street outside Nobu, waiting for my car."

"Oh yeah? I love that place."

"The black quid pasta is amazing." I said agreeably. "Anyway, I was talking on the phone when the valet pulled up with my car."

Brandon gave a look that seemed to say 'where is this going?'

"And all of a sudden, the call got cut off." I continued. "I realised, ah...the Bluetooth in my car picked up the call automatically, because they were linked."

"You told us that all your phones auto-share media files via a Bluetooth link, right?" Beckett joined in.

"So?" Brandon said.

"So, your phone "linked" with Max's phone the night he was killed." I informed him.

"It's a digital fingerprint that places you within twenty feet of Max at the time of his murder." Beckett added.

"You did say if she got some evidence, she should arrest you." I tried very hard not to grin when I said that. I was pleased to see a brief flicker of nervousness appear in Brandon's eyes.

"You took advantage of Max's guilt over Donny's death, and you got him blind drunk." Beckett pressed. "And then you put a gun in his hand and pressed it against his temple, and then pulled the trigger."

"Why would I do that?" Brandon asked carefully.

"To cover your tracks over killing Donny." Beckett said.

"Why would I kill Donny?"

"Amanda." I suggested.

"Amanda is with me, not Donny." Brandon said dismissively.

"Yeah, only after Donny lost all his money." I added.

"Which makes you sloppy seconds." Beckett asserted.

"That had to eat you alive, knowing that Amanda had been with Donny." I surmised.

"Especially because he got way more than just under blouse, right?" Beckett suggested.

I rose from the chair I had been sitting on and started to pace. I was really enjoying this good cop bad cop routine Beckett and I had going. We had caught the fish and the time had come to reel him in. Enter stage right, Richard Castle, master storyteller.

"I have a video that shows Max killed Donny, not me." Brandon asserted fixing Beckett with a glare.

Arranging that had been impressive I told Brandon. Fooling Spencer, Romy and Amanda was not all that difficult because they did not handle to gun. But Max was another story. He actually pulled the trigger, and he just could not let go, could he? And then Max remembered that Brandon had given him the gun. So he called Brandon to meet him.

"We have a record of the call." Beckett provided helpfully.

I stopped the pacing and moved to stand beside Brandon and continued with my monologue. I told him that he knew that something was up, so he brought the gun and what, vodka or was Max a scotch guy, I wondered aloud. Then I continued, lowering my voice into an almost hypnotic tone, like I had done when I spun the tale of the guy in 8-B during the Nanny McDead case. This time I was not messing with detectives, this time I was using my powers for good.

Max knew all about Brandon, Donny and Amanda, and he had to wonder did Brandon set him up to kill his best friend. And when he realised that he had been set up, he was not going to keep quiet about it. Even when Brandon had told him that they would all go to jail.

I was hovering close to a silent and still Brandon.

"If only Max had been strong enough to man up." I said, my voice almost a whisper. "If only Donny realised that he did not belong with you guys anymore, he and Amanda were through. Well, then this would not have been necessary.

Brandon was staring into space as I pressed on.

"Weak people just don't get it, do they Brandon?" I asked. "Sometimes they just have to be led to the truth."

"Exactly." Brandon said quietly.

I suddenly snapped out of storyteller mode and straightened up and looked over to Beckett who had an amused look on her face.

"Did he just say, 'exactly'?" I asked her. "Because I heard him say, 'exactly'."

"Yup, I heard it, too."

Brandon was stunned at what had suddenly transpired.

"You tricked me." He accused. I made a face at him as I sat down in my chair.

Beckett rose to her feet and moved across to the two way mirror. She knocked on it and made a hand motion.

"It's still called 'an admission against interest' Beckett informed him.

"Just a fancy term for 'confession'" I informed Brandon helpfully.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" Beckett added as she moved away from the two way mirror.

I murmured my agreement.

Beckett came to stand at the table and look down at Brandon.

"Oh, and the funny thing is, I bet you thought you were pretty clever to go back and move Donny's body, right?"

Brandon did not speak. He glared up at Beckett.

"The thing is, we would never have figured it out if you hadn't."

Beckett sat back down.

"Well, she would never have figured it out." I confided to Brandon.

"Oh, like you would have figured it out." Beckett challenged.

I turned to look at Beckett and smiled. "I definitely would have figured it out."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

I nodded my head. "Honest truth. Straight face. From the heart." I assured her.

I rather enjoyed this bout of victory banter with Beckett and from the look on her face as she volleyed back my remarks, she was enjoying it too. I got a couple of eye rolls and a shake of her head along the way. Why wouldn't we celebrate? We had just solved two murders and arrested the kid who had done it. I don't know what Brandon thought about having to witness this back and forth between Beckett and me but I did not really care.

Beckett got him to write out his statement and to sign it before cuffing him and turning him over to a uniform when we emerged from the interrogation room. Beckett escorted Brandon down to holding where he was going to be processed.

I remained in the bullpen and the euphoria of having solved the case disappeared when I saw Romy, Amanda and Spencer , their parents with them, They all looked shell-shocked as they were being processed. So many lives ruined because of the actions of one of their so called friends. I felt sad.

Beckett returned to her desk after Brandon had been processed and on his way to Central Booking. She found me sitting in the chair beside her desk waiting for her. That brought a smile to her face. Once she sat down Beckett immediately started up the paperwork for the case. I kept her company for a little while before she noticed that I was a little fidgety. Seeing as all that was left was the paperwork Beckett sent me home. I did not object as I suddenly realised I had a very urgent need to see my daughter.

XXXXX

_**Drop me a line with your thoughts on this chapter.**_

_**Con **_


	13. Chapter 13

A Case Of Hell Hath No Fury

Part 1

When I started shadowing Detective Beckett for research purposes I never expected to find the coffee served at the 12th Precinct to be anywhere near the quality I had grown accustomed to. Nevertheless I took the plunge and my taste buds rebelled most vociferously. Ugh! I soon got used to the coffee at the 12th. Not really, no.

On this particular day much to my horror I found the coffee to be even worse. Perhaps they had changed the brand they usually used for something cheaper due to departmental budget cuts, I don't know. Today, the coffee which was passable at the best of times was much, much worse.

I was sitting beside Beckett's desk watching her do paperwork. It was a pretty slow morning as it happened. Beckett did not have a case to work and was forced to catch up on her paperwork. During my observations of Detective Beckett doing paperwork I thought a coffee might help pass the time a little quicker. So, I got up and got Beckett and myself a cup of coffee from the break room.

Upon my return I sat down in my chair and threw caution to the wind and took a sip from the caffeinated concoction that was doing a pretty good impression of river sludge. I screwed my face and made a noise.

"Oh my god." I announced. "This is quite possibly the worst coffee I have ever tasted.

Beckett paused in her paperwork, placed her head in her hand and cast a weary look in my direction.

"It taste like a..." I paused in my description to take another sip. I wanted to make sure I got the description right. "It tastes like a monkey peed in battery acid."

"Don't you have a book coming out today or something?" Beckett sighed.

"Yeah, so?" I said a little defensively.

It was true. I did have a book coming out today. The last book in the Derrick Storm series, _Storm Fall_, was being released today. I wont lie to you. I was feeling a little nervous about it. It was not anything new. I always got a little nervous whenever a new book of mine came out. It's like a parent who sends their kid to school for the first time. There is apprehension and nervousness, wondering if they will be accepted, and that sort of thing.

"So, you're watching me do paperwork." Beckett said, drawing me away from my thoughts. "It's creepy."

Watching Detective Beckett doing paperwork is certainly not creepy. At least I don't think so. I rather enjoy watching her. I would hasten to say, that it is for research purposes. It's the little things one observes that adds more reality to the character one is creating. Like the way the middle of her brow furrows when she is thinking. An adorable affectation.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Beckett asked.

"I like it here." I shrugged.

I did have somewhere else to be but I did not want to be there. I did not promise that I would be there, all I had said was that if there was no case then I would show up. And besides, I like it here. I liked sitting beside Beckett watching her work. I like watching some of New York's finest doing their work. I was seated beside Beckett's desk in the hope that a call would come through about a body dropping. So far it looked like the Universe was conspiring against me.

"Oh, my gosh." Beckett said, her face brightening. "I get it. Your book is coming out today, and you're hiding."

You can see now why Kate Beckett is one of the NYPD's best detectives. She has a razer sharp mind. It took her barely a few minutes to figure out why I was hanging out with her.

"No." I said carefully. "Hiding would be building a fortress out of my comforter and then downing a fifth of scotch, but apparently that's considered unhealthy." I told her.

It happened only once and it was a long, long time ago. Sometimes you make a mistake and you are never allowed to forget it. I can't say I blame them really, considering I'm usually supplying the ammunition.

"I thought you didn't care what people think?" Beckett accused.

"I don't." I said. "Much."

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head at me. She was about to say something but was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. While she answered the call I made an effort to finish my coffee. I took a sip and suddered.

"Yeah, okay right. On my way." Beckett announced.

I looked across to Beckett and saw the grim look on her face and knew that she had just landed a case. It was a look that I would come to know very well. She rose to her feet and gathered her things. I could not contain my excitement. The Universe had come through for me, it had taken pity and sent a murder case.

"A dead body? Yes!" I said almost with gleeful excitement as I jumped out of my chair.

XXX

A uniformed officer was waiting for Beckett and I at the elevator. He informed Beckett that he had set off the murder scene and then pointed down the length of the hallway to apartment where the body had been found. Beckett started down the hallway passing another uniform.

"This the guy?" The uniform remarked to Beckett, an amused grin on his face as he pointed to me.

"You heard, huh?" Beckett muttered.

"Oh, everyone's heard." The uniform chuckled. He turned to me. "You really basing your next character on Detective Beckett?"

"Every artist needs a muse." I replied with a grin.

Beckett had barely taken a couple of steps before she rounded on me and fixed me with a glare.

"Call me a muse again, and I will break both your legs, okay?"

"Okay." I grinned.

I know I should not have been grinning when Beckett threatened me bodily harm but I found it amusing. I could not help it. I liked to rile her up just to get a rise out of her. My day wouldn't be complete unless I had riled her up and she had threatened to shoot me or inflict bodily harm at least once. In the not too distant future that would change but not much.

Also, I was not lying to the uniform when I told him that every artist needed a muse. It's true. It's especially true for me. I was only beginning to learn that Beckett had been trying to keep a lid on the knowledge that a new character was being based on her. Like you could keep something like that quiet amongst a bunch of cops, yeah right?

I was quickly learning that cops can be the most notorious of gossips.

We entered the apartment and moved to the living room where Detectives Esposito and Ryan were standing over a body laying on a rug. Dr Lanie Parish was crouching beside the body of a male Caucasian making notes on her clipboard. Off to one corner of the living room were the owners of the apartment. A uniform was standing with them making notes in his note book. The two men were looking decidedly upset and shocked as a result of their discovery.

"Jack Lifford and Hall Morrison," Esposito paused to point in the direction of the corner where the two men were standing. "While moving in, they see a rolled up rug sticking out of a dumpster. They figure it's their lucky day. They bring it home, only to find there's a prize inside."

"Dead guy in a rug." Ryan grinned. "Naturally, we thought of you."

Another thing I had come to learn about Detective Beckett in my short time shadowing her was that she liked working the strange cases, the weird ones, the unusual ones. There was even a name for it amongst the 12th Precinct. _"Beckett Flavoured." _I have to thank Ryan and Esposito for divulging that little tit bit.

Beckett nodded her head after that quick briefing and turned her attention to the body laying on the rug on the floor. I moved around her to get a better view of the body.

"38 calibre. Close range. Killed him instantly." Dr Parish announced.

"You got an ID?" Beckett asked.

"No. Pockets were empty." Esposito reported. "No wallet, no keys, no jewellery."

"We figure a robbery gone wrong." Ryan added.

"This wasn't a robbery." Beckett and I said in unison.

Beckett turned to look at me, a surprised expression on her face. Lanie Parish was also looking up at me as were Esposito and Ryan. In response to the questioning quirk of Beckett's eyebrow I gave my reason for my statement.

"I rob someone, I'm not going to stick around and wrap him, and throw him away." I said.

That seemed to appease Beckett as she turned back to study the body.

"Blood splatter indicates he was standing near the rug when he was shot." Beckett surmised. She looked over to Ryan. "Where did they find this?"

"East 3rd, about two blocks away." Ryan reported.

I pulled out my phone and surreptitiously and took a couple of shots of the rug. I know I should not have done it. I should have asked Beckett but I knew that she would not let me. Nor would she let me borrow a couple of the photos of the crime scene. So I took a couple of shots of my own. I knew someone who might be able to assist in regards to the rug. Beckett would probably kill me when she found out but at the time I was willing to take the risk.

"Alright." Beckett announced, taking charge. "Let's get SCU on the rug. Fibres, blood, identifying marks. And let's get a team down to the dumpster, see if we can dig up anything else." Beckett then turned to look at the medical examiner. "Lanie, you do what you can about an ID."

"Got it."

It was at that moment that I spoke up again. After putting away my phone I again studied the guy on the floor. It did not take long to realise that I had seen his face before. His face had been plastered all over the place.

"Don't bother." I said. "I know who he is."

Everyone turned to look at me and I gave them the name of the deceased.

XXX

Beckett and I left Ryan and Esposito to finish up at the crime scene and we made our way back to the Precinct. It was not long before Beckett had compiled a file containing a summary of the murder victim. Captain Montgomery came over to Beckett's desk.

"You got something?" He asked.

Beckett passed over the file to the Captain.

"Jeff Horn, 48. Two term city council member." Beckett said succinctly.

Captain Montgomery looked up from the file and slid his eyes in my direction.

"Friend of yours?" He asked.

"I recognised him from the bus ads." I replied. "He's running for re-election."

"The press is going to be all over this." Montgomery frowned. "Does he have a family?"

"Yeah." Beckett said.

"Well, let's try to notify them before the jackals do." Montgomery ordered. He passed the file back to Beckett and continued on his way to his office.

XXX

The Horn's apartment was a well appointed abode not too fancy and certainly not shabby. The furnishings I noticed were on the expensive side of the ledger. There were the usual collection of family portraits in prominent positions.

Laurie Horn was an attractive woman in her mid to late thirties, with dark hair, brown eyes and a small mouth. She took the news of her husband's death with shock as was expected. There were tears and she accepted our condolences tearfully. She stoically agreed to answer a few questions.

"Mrs Horn I know this is difficult." Detective Beckett said gently. "But when was the last time you heard from your husband?"

"I called him last night around eleven." Laurie Horn replied. "He was finishing up a fund raiser and heading back to the office."

"Did he always work late?"

"During elections." Laurie nodded. "He believed that it was a politician's obligation to get the peoples' work done even while running for office." A small smile flickered briefly across her face.

"And when did he come home?"

"Well, it wasn't unusual for him to crash on his couch instead of coming home but...when Frank called this morning..." Laurie choked back tears.

"Frank?" Beckett queried.

"Frank Nesbit. Jeff's campaign manager." Laurie explained.

"How did your husband sound last night?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Laurie asked, frowning.

"Did he seem...troubled, like there was something wrong?"

"No, he seemed happy, It doesn't make any sense." Laurie said., shaking her head. "He's a good man and he's a good father. And every day he would go out there and try to make this city a better place. Every day!"

I could not help but notice that Laurie Horn was speaking of her husband in the present tense. She sounded like she was out there on the campaign trail trying to convince constituents why they should vote for her husband. Suddenly she realised what she had been saying. The enormity of her loss hit her.

"Oh, no, what am I supposed to tell my girls?" she gasped.

Laurie Hearn burst into tears again. That was the cue for Beckett to wind up the interview. We left a grieving Laurie Horn, thanking her for her time and again passing on our condolences for her loss.

XXX

Beckett was silent as we drove back. Looking across to her I found her in a pensive mood, deep in thought. I did nothing to break the silence, giving her the peace that she looked like she needed.

Suddenly Beckett let out a long sigh, breaking the silence. So much for giving her peace.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Can't be easy, breaking that kind of news."

I've accompanied Beckett a few times where she has had to break the bad news. I find it disconcerting and I'm not the one having to tell the victims' families of their loss. I can't begin to imagine what it is like for Beckett. I wonder how she does it and admire her all the more for her ability to do it.

"Yeah well, thanks for not making of a joke of it." Beckett said.

"Hey, I'm a wise-ass not a jackass." I replied.

Beckett glanced over to me and smiled. "I didn't know there was a difference."

I smiled back. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my note book and pen.

"So, what's your next move?" I asked bringing us back to the case. "Last person to see him alive? Establish a timeline? Grab a donut? More really bad coffee?" I thought I might lighten the heavy atmosphere in the car.

Beckett's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Umm this female detective of yours." She said hesitantly. "Exactly how much will she be based on me?"

"Well , she's not too bright, and kind of slutty." I shot back.

"Right, so was that wise-ass or jackass?" A brief smile ghosted her face.

"Actually, that was jackass." I chuckled.

Beckett let out a hum of disbelief.

"No. Honestly, you're not going have anything to be embarrassed about." I assured her.

Beckett shot me a disbelieving look before turning her attention back to the road.

"She's going to be..." I paused a moment.

How do I describe the character that has captured my imagination? How do I describe the woman who was the inspiration? Well I'm a writer. I should have the words, right?

"She's going to be really smart, very savvy, haunting good looks..., really good at her job." I paused again and looked over to her. "...and kind of slutty."

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head at me and there was the ghost of a smile on her lips. I am pleased to say that Beckett's sombre mood lifted after that. She was about to scold me for that last remark but was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. The ringtone was Wanger's ride of the Valkyries. I apologised to her saying that I had to take it.

The caller was my mother. I should not have answered the call because she sounded mournful and was calling me to see if I was alright. I assured her that I was. Mother was at that moment in a book shop and she was calling to report that no one was buying my book. I dismissed her concerns by saying the book had been on sale for only two hours. What was she expecting, a line out the door? There had been one for the last Harry Potter book mother volleyed back. I pointed out that Derrick Storm was not Harry Potter.

As I was conversing with my mother on the phone I glanced across and found Beckett looking at me as if she was listening in on my conversation. There might be some of you out there who might be suggesting that this would have been the perfect moment for a spot of payback. To reach out and twist her ear for listening in on my telephone conversation, like she had done to me during that previous case.

There were several reasons I did not engage in a spot of payback. Firstly, Beckett was driving and distracting her would have been dangerous. Secondly, Beckett would have used her lightning ninja-like speed to attack some other vulnerable body part of mine in counter attack. Thirdly, I did not think of it. Fourthly, and what I would say most importantly, I was distracted. Mother's concern about the lack of book sales had seeped into me. I could not believe that no one had bought one of my books.

There was a moment when my hopes started to rise when Mother thought she spotted someone picking up my book and browse through it. A couple of moments later Mother reported that it was a false alarm. I rang off without telling her goodbye and tried not to look glum.

"You okay?" Beckett inquired.

"Yeah." I muttered.

I will be honest with you. I was anything but okay at that moment. I could not quite believe that no one was buying my latest book. Admittedly,_ Storm Fall_ was not one of my best efforts but I would of thought that there would be some interest in it considering that it was the last Derrick Storm novel. I could not quite believe that my loyal fans had abandoned me so quickly.

Meanwhile, while Beckett and I had spoken with Laurie Horn and then having my ego pummelled by my mother and the book buying public, Detectives Esposito and Ryan were in an alley near East 3rd dumpster diving. They were going through the garbage hoping to find Jeff Horn's missing wallet.

While they conducted the search through the smelly refuse they were having a conversation about picking up things from dumpsters or alleys, furniture and the like. Esposito was most emphatic when he told his partner that he would never pick up something like a rug if he found it abandoned in a dumpster. Ryan was incredulous to hear his partner's declaration. He could not believe that Esposito had lived in New York all his life and he had never scored a piece of road kill.

Detective Ryan assured his partner that it was an accepted practice. He said that when you're done with your old stuff you would leave it on the street for the less fortunate. Artists, students, former hedge fund managers and the like. Ryan asserted that it was trickle down economics at its finest. Esposito's come back was that he preferred not to be trickled on.

Esposito's sensibilities were further offended when Ryan enthusiastically informed him that the red couch that Ryan had, the one that Esposito liked very much, had been picked up off the street. At 54th and Lex to be exact.

While Esposito and Ryan were searching and talking a uniformed officer, Officer Scott got into the adjacent dumpster and started searching it. A moment or two later he found the missing wallet and passed it over to the two detectives, who on searching it confirmed that it had belonged to Jeff Horn. Esposito could not believe that the uniform had only just got in and he found the wallet.

I have Officer Scott to thank for the above amusing story.

XXX

Beckett and I were standing on the street. Beckett was on the phone. We had not returned to the precinct but had decided instead to pay a visit to Jefff Horn's campaign manager. Actually it was Beckett who decided to pay a visit to Horn's campaign manager. We were out the front of a large shop front. The windows along the front were decorated with red, white and blue bunting that are stock standard paraphernalia of any candidate running for election whether it is for the position of local dog catcher or President of the United States. Amongst the bunting were large posters of the candidate himself.

Finishing my inspection of the windows I turned to look at Beckett.

"Yeah, Esposito. No run his phone records, see if he talked to anyone other than his wife." Beckett said and hung up the phone. She started to walk toward the front door of the campaign office. I joined her. "They found the wallet. Money and credit cards gone."

I nodded my head in understanding. "Anything from the neighbours?"

"The usual." Beckett said with a shrug. "Wailing cats, loud TVs, car alarms. No shots though. And no blood splatter."

"A real robber would have left the wallet where he killed the guy, not where he moved him." I pointed out.

"It's a sloppy cover up, but it does tell us one thing."

I looked at Beckett.

"This was premeditated." She declared.

I nodded my head in agreement. Beckett reached the front door of the office and pulled it open. I swanned right through first without acknowledging her gesture. Now I hasten to say that I am a gentleman, mother raised me to be one. I only walked in ahead of her just to get a rise out of her. Beckett did not say a word about it. Maybe she was a little taken aback by my action or was storing the slight in readiness for repayment sometime in the future, I don't know. She recovered quickly enough and was by my side as we approached the front desk.

Seated at the front desk was a young tearful woman who had a phone glued to her ear. Looking around I saw a few more tear stained faces and there was a sombre mood all over. The news of Jeff Horn's death had filtered through.

Beckett showed her badge to the young woman and asked to see Frank Nesbit. Without removing the phone from her ear she gestured with her free hand to her right. Beckett thanked the young woman and moved off in that direction. I followed.

Frank Nesbit was a tall man aged in his late forties. He looked like he was one of the oldest people here in this campaign office. Blonde hair that was rapidly turning grey, he was dressed in a grey business suit. He was speaking with a young campaign volunteer as we approached. He excused himself and greeted us. He showed us to an out of the way area that was surround by stacks of boxes that were serving as partitions and what I took to be a conference area. There were a number of fold away chairs arrayed in a semi circle.

"We have called in grief counsellors for the kids." Nesbit informed us as he motioned us to chairs as he sat down opposite us. "I know it's a cliché, but he meant a lot to all of us."

"It sounds like he was more than just a candidate." I remarked.

"We were friends." Nesbit admitted. "We wanted to change the world."

I thought I detected a wistful look on Nesbit's face. It did not last long though.

"You were with him last night?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah. Until about, I don't know about eleven." Nesbit replied. "I offered to share a taxi, but he wanted to walk."

"And where was the fund raiser?"

"Marconi's, 83rd off Broadway."

"That's just a couple of blocks from here." I said.

Beckett gave me a quick look before she looked back to Nesbit.

"Mr Horn's body was found all the way downtown." She said. "Did he have any enemies?"

"Well," Nesbit shrugged his shoulders, there was almost a smile on his face. "He was a politician."

"What about his opponent?" I asked.

Nesbit paused with a thoughtful look on his face as if he was considering the question carefully.

"It's hard to imagine Jason Bollinger doing something like this." Nesbit said. "He is eight points up in the polls."

"Did Horn or the campaign receive any threats recently?" Beckett questioned.

"Just your usual crackpots, nothing special." Nesbit replied. He paused a moment as something came to mind. "Unless you count hate mail from Calvin Creason."

"Creason, the hotel and club owner?" I said, brightening.

Nesbit nodded his head.

"He owns Axium and the Soho Majestic." I said eagerly. "Even ran Club Tasty back in the day. There was this one time..."

Beckett turned to me and levelled a glare that quickly stopped the story I was about recount.

"Story for another time." I said quietly. In the next breath I continued. "What did Horn do? Crack down on ecstasy dealers?"

Nesbit told us that Calvin Creason had bought bought an old meatpacking warehouse on the lower Eastside wanting to turn it into his next hotspot. It would have three hundred rooms, sake bar, nightclub. The neighbours did not want to have a bunch of drunken B&T'ers running through the streets. After representations from the neighbours Jeff Horn killed the project in committee.

"Leaving Creason with millions of dollars of now worthless real estate." I surmised.

Beckett murmured her agreement.

"Creason had a beef with Horn. It doesn't mean he killed him." Nesbit said.

"It doesn't mean he didn't." Beckett declared as she rose to her feet. "Excuse us."

XXXXX

_**What did you think of this chapter?**_

_**Con **_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The Case of Hell Hath No Fury

Part 2

Calvin Creason was the epitome of sleaze, at least that is what I thought the moment I laid eyes on him. We were shown into his office that staggered me by the amount of red that was used in the colour scheme and some of the furniture. The other furniture was in dark hues that was supposed to blend with the predominant red. The guy had seriously questionable tastes or was in desperrate need of a professional interior decorator. Creason was seated on a couch that, you guessed it was red leather. Our courteous host did not invite us to sit down, but I suspect we would not have sat down had he made the offer.

Did I say that he was the epitome of sleaze?

Creason was aged in his early thirties, with dark brown hair that had too much product in there, and eyebrows that were in bad need of a trim. He wore a business suit that from some Italian designer and a purple shirt that hurt the eyes. He was seated on the couch looking like he was a lord of the manor or something.

Did I say he was the epitome of sleaze?

"Do you want to know what I did when I found out that he was dead?" Creason said. "I ordered myself an ice cold bottle of Cris and toasted the sweetness of the Universe, okay?"

There was a smug look on his face when he said that.

"That's pretty callous, Mr Creason." Beckett remarked.

"What do I care?" Creason exclaimed. "This guy was a putz, acting like another hotel going up, that was going to be the end of the world." Creason paused to shake his head. "Do you have any idea what one of my properties does for the local economy? This city should be paying me, not stopping me."

While Creason had been pontificating, I glance across to my left and saw one of Creason's minions standing by the conference table. This was the guy who had shown us in. He tall and very solidly built and from the looks of things his bicep size was far higher than his IQ. He seemed to have a permanent scowl etched on his face. I gave the gorilla a brief grin to which he made no response before I turned back to face Creason just as he finished his diatribe.

"So, I guess you had motive." I said.

"Who the hell is he?" Creason shouted, flinging an arm in my direction but looking at Beckett. "You a cop?"

I turned to Beckett. "I say we arrest him."

"Castle..." Beckett hissed.

"For what? Please. You got nothing here." Creason interjected, his voice rising an octave. "If I was gonna go around killing everybody that got in my way, there would be bodies stacked higher than the Crysler Building. I don't need to kill anyone to bury them."

There are moments when I do wish I was a cop. This was one of them. It would give me no end of pleasure to snap the cuffs on the sleaze ball. Sadly I did not carry a badge. The only one with a badge in the room ignored the second diatribe.

"So where were you last night?" She asked.

"I was at my club in Soho." Creason replied.

"Anybody see you?"

Creason let out a little laugh and smirked as he looked up at Beckett.

"Detective, when I go out, everyone sees me." Creason said smugly.

"Thank you very much, Mr Creason." Beckett replied.

Beckett and I turned and headed for the door. I could not help feeling more than a little unclean after our meeting with Calvin Creason.

"I want to take a shower." I remarked to Beckett.

"Mmmm."

The way Beckett murmured had me suddenly intrigued. Did that murmur mean that she felt like she needed a shower after our meeting with sleazeball Creason or she wanted to share a shower with me? You know me, my thoughts immediately leaped to option two. I hoped it was option two. I was ready to make an inappropriate suggestion to her, like we could share a shower but the suggestion wilted no sooner than I thought of it when I saw the look on Beckett's face. Determined Beckett might have actually done bodily harm to my person if I made the suggestion aloud.

We were walking through a hallway. So I quickly forgot about suggesting we take a shower together and returned to the case in hand.

"Where to next?" I asked her.

"To check his alibi." Beckett replied crisply.

I felt the vibration of my phone alerting me to an incoming text message. I fished out the phone and checked the message. My eyes lit up with what I read. I put away the phone.

"Actually, that might not be necessary." I announced.

"Why not?" Beckett asked.

I picked up my pace along the corridor leaving Beckett behind. She was forced to pick up her own speed to catch up with me.

"Castle." she called. "What are you doing?"

As I walked I was looking for an open hotel room door.

"Promise not to hate me." I called over my shoulder.

"I already hate you."

I slowed my pace to let Beckett catch up with me.

"Fair enough." I said. "This morning, with the body, I took a couple of pictures."

"You took photos of my crime scene?" Beckett hissed in shock.

"Before you get mad, I emailed them to a friend of mine."

I could feel Beckett anger levels rising steadily but I was too excited. I thought I might have broken the case and I wanted to show Beckett what I had found. Do you think I could find an open door?

"You emailed them to a friend?"

"Well not exactly a friend." I corrected. "She's my interior decorator. But we slept together, so I don't really know what we she is now."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Beckett demanded.

"I know, right? You work together, you think it's going to be fun, but then it always makes thing weird." I said and glanced at her. "It's a real cautionary tale."

Beckett looked stunned, not believing what I had said. She recovered quickly.

"I'm talking about the photographs. Of the body."

"What? No. I didn't send her pictures of the body." I told Beckett. "I sent her pictures of the rug."

I spotted an open door and moved to it quickly.

"I thought maybe she might be able to tell me where it came from." I explained. "And guess what? She did."

Beckett stood on the other side of the doorway still glaring at me. I had no doubt she was entertaining thoughts of punishing me for having taken photographs of the rug without her permission. I was prepared to risk the wrath of Detective Beckett. I grinned smugly at her before nodding in the direction of the room.

Beckett turned her head and peered into the room to find a maid vacuuming the room. Her eyes fell to the floor and she saw the same kind of rug that Jeff Horn's body had been wrapped up in. The look of anger fell away from Beckett's face as it registered. A look of astonishment swept across her face. I grinned even more on seeing her reaction.

"That's the rug. That's the same rug." She declared. She turned to look at me. Seeing the expression on my face her face clouded a little. She added an appealing eyeroll. "Don't gloat, because it's really unattractive."

"Now can we arrest him?" I asked.

Wait, hang on a minute. Did Beckett say I looked attractive? Okay, her words were that I shouldn't gloat because it was unattractive. But what I interpreted it to mean was that I was attractive. That's my takeaway from that. I guess the old Castle charm was slowly wearing her down. But I digress.

Following the discovery of the rug Detective Beckett turned around and marched right back to Calvin Creason's office where she cordially invited him down to the 12th Precinct. Creason, as you can imagine was not willing to accept the invitation. His gorilla took a couple of steps towards Beckett in an intimidating manner. She gave him a look that stopped him dead in his tracks. If it came to a fight, all of my money would have been on Detective Beckett. Creason quickly changed his mind when Beckett showed him the pair of stainless steel invitations that she could use on him.

XXX

I was standing in the hallway outside of the interrogation room peering in, watching as Mr Sleazy, otherwise known as Calvin Creason, pace back and forth in the interrogation room. Beckett was beside me talking on the phone. Creason paused in his pacing to pick up the cup of coffee that he had been given while he waited for the interview with Beckett. Creason took a sip and physically shuddered at the taste.

"I feel you, man." I whispered, almost shuddering myself at the memory at the coffee I had earlier in the day.

As I watched Creason I started to think. The more I thought abut it, the more I came to a different conclusion. Sure I wanted the guy arrested because at the time I thought he was guilty. He was a great candidate. Now I had drawn a different conclusion.

Beckett finished her call she turned and started to make her way back to her desk. I quickly fell into step alongside her.

"He did not arrive at the club until after midnight." Beckett informed me.

"So what do we do now?" I said. "Wait for his lawyer to show up?"

"Actually, we follow other leads." Beckett said, glancing at me. "It's something we call 'working'"

"Other leads! Good." I brightened. "Since we both know he didn't do it."

Beckett shot me a quizzical look. "Creason? What makes you think he didn't do it?"

"Isn't it obvious? All the evidence points to him."

"And that somehow makes him not guilty?"

Beckett could not help herself she shot me a look of incredulity.

"He's totally the red herring." I insisted.

"The red herring?" She questioned.

"An innocent character who appears guilty." I explained.

Beckett reached her desk and sat down. I took up station in the chair beside her desk. Once settled she turned to look at me.

"I know what a red herring is, Castle. It's a literary device used in literature. In real life, we wont dismiss a subject just because he appears too guilty. Besides, I thought you wanted to arrest him?"

"Yeah because he's a tool, not because he's guilty." I informed her. "The guy's a multi millionaire. He's not going to wrap a dead body in his own rug."

"It doesn't matter." Beckett said. "Those rugs were custom made for Creason's hotels, so we know he's connected."

I had to nod my head in agreement but I was not going to argue with her about having the wrong guy. I was not too perturb have Creason cooling his heels in the interrogation room for a little while. I know it's a little churlish of me but, you know what? I don't care.

Beckett lifted her head and spotted Esposito walking into the bullpen.

"Hey Esposito." She called out. "See what you can find out on that rug. If one went missing, what room it's from, and maybe who had access."

Esposito acknowledged the order. He turned on his heels and walked away. He called out to his partner that they were going on a road trip. Ryan rose from his desk and joined Esposito.

I leaned closer to Beckett and grinned.

"You're very good at bossing men around." I said in a low voice, amusement dancing in my eyes. "I've noticed."

Beckett did not respond to that observation of mine. She levelled a look at me before she turned her attention to the work on her desk.

XXX

I found myself standing in the observation room, again. Beckett did not want me sitting in when she interrogated Creason. She soothed my slightly hurt feelings that she thought she could get more out of him if she did it on her own without any distractions. Watching from the observation room was becoming a regular occurrence I could not help but notice.

Creason's lawyer had shown up, a female lawyer, blonde about early thirties, dressed in a well tailored business pants suit that undoubtedly had come from a boutique that catered for the discerning business woman and lawyer on a high retainer. Attractive, yes, but she reminded me just a little of ex-wife number two. She lost points for that.

The video monitors were switched on so the interrogation with Creason was being recorded. I paced from the mirror to the monitors.

"You're telling me that it's just a coincidence that a man whose murder you celebrated by drinking champagne was found wrapped in a rug from your hotel?" Beckett said angrily.

"There are identical rugs in every room of the Axium." Lady Lawyer said smoothly. "You can't expect my client to be responsible for their whereabouts."

Beckett drew her attention to the lawyer. "Sure I can." she said crisply. "Until a jury tells me otherwise."

Take that Lady Lawyer, I thought to myself.

"You're wasting my time." Creason complained. "Detective, look, I told you exactly what I was doing last night."

"Right." Beckett nodded. "You were at the club. They said you made quite the entrance. Super model on each arm."

"Yeah." Creason smirked. He placed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "You know last time I checked, it's not a crime, is it?"

"No." Beckett agreed. "But you know what it is? Memorable."

I had been watching on the monitor but chose that moment to move across to the mirror.

"Witnesses don't place you at the club until one in the morning. And Horn was murdered somewhere between eleven and twelve." Beckett informed him.

"Here it comes, and..." I whispered aloud, the excitement building.

"So where were you between eleven and twelve, Mr Creason." Beckett asked.

"Booyah" I said.

The confident look on Creason's face faltered a little.

"I was asleep." Creason said.

I could not believe that was his explanation. It was so lame.

"Asleep? You are lame!" I shouted at him through the mirror. "You are so Lame! You're Lamey McLamester."

So, okay, I might have gotten a little carried away there. I did not realise my chanting could be heard in the interrogation room. Certainly lady Lawyer and Creason looked at the mirror, wondering what the hell was going on. Beckett did not turn around but I suspect she was warming up the Death Glare. I would have kept carrying on, chanting that Creason was so lame had it not been for the uniform who came into the observation room looking for something. He gave me a look that stopped me in my tracks.

"It's a well known fact that Mr Creason sleeps from 6.00pm to midnight in order to maintain a late night presence at his clubs." Lady Lawyer informed Beckett.

"Did anyone witness you sleeping between the hours of eleven and twelve last night, Mr Creason?" Beckett asked.

"Creason..." Lady Lawyer cautioned.

"Hold on one sec." He told her before he turned to Beckett and answered her question. "No."

"So you had motive and opportunity." Beckett declared. She closed her file and rose to her feet and started for the door.

"Whoa, wait, wait." Creason called in a desperate tone.

I could not help but smile at the way Beckett had got him to start talking. It was perfectly dramatic. I'm sure if mother was here she would have nodded her head in approval.

"Hold on a sec." Creason said. "I didn't kill him. I had no reason to."

Beckett moved away from the door and came back to the table.

"He was in your way." She told him.

"Yeah, but not for long." Creason grinned. "I knew he was going to lose the election, okay? So I didn't have to kill him. All I had to do was wait."

"You couldn't be sure that he was going to lose the election."

"Yes, actually, I could." Creason grinned. "What do you know about Jason Bollinger, Horn's opponent?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was Creason accusing Horn's political opponent of murder?

Surely not. But this was Calvin Creason, Mr Sleaze Ball, Mr Tool, so anything was possible. As I continued to watch and listen Creason told Beckett that he believed that Bollinger had come into possession of some information that if made public would guarantee Bollinger losing the information. Creason was not specific about what that information it was, suggesting to Beckett that she speak with Horn's political opponent.

XXX

Beckett and I fronted the Jason Bollinger campaign office. Campaign head quarters was located in a large office space not all that far from the Horn campaign head quarters. Getting to see Bollinger was not all that difficult. Some campaign flunky who had greeted us at the front desk had tried to put us off by saying that Bollinger was not available but a police badge shoved in his face and the threat of being charged with obstructing police had the guy quickly changing his mind. And what do you know? Jason Bollinger was available. Funny that.

Jason Bollinger was aged in his late to early thirties of average height, dark hair neatly coiffured, with a round and open face. His waist line was starting to expand a little too prominently. The black business suit he wore was something bought off the wrack.

He greeted us warmly if quickly, he had a flunky with him as he escorted us towards his office. The assistant had passed Bollinger something to read, which the candidate quickly skimmed over, nodding his head in approval then handing the sheet of paper back.

"Is the statement ready?" Bollinger asked his assistant.

"Mike's still working on it." The assistant replied.

"Well tell Mike that the Ledger website updates in twenty minutes and I want my quote of outrage and sympathy in the damn article." Bollinger said tersely. The assistant nodded his head and departed. Bollinger suddenly remembered the presence of Beckett and myself. He offered a small apologetic smile as he looked at Beckett.

"I'm sorry. It's been all hands on deck since we found out. If you don't handle these things right, you get crucified."

"Mr Bollinger..."

"Mr Bollinger is my father." Bollinger interjected and smiled. "Call me Jason."

"Okay, Jason. How well do you know Calvin Creason." Beckett said.

Bollinger moved to stand behind his desk, there a thoughtful look on his face as if he was considering Beckett's question.

"He threw me a couple of fund raisers. We met a few times. Why?"

"Well, he seems to think that you have some information on Horn." Beckett informed him.

"Something that would guarantee you the election."

The Bollinger's cheerful countenance faded from his face as he looked from Beckett to me and back to Beckett.

"We conducted opposition research." Bollinger announced.

"Opposition research?" Beckett queried.

Bollinger nodded his head before he explained that his campaign had conducted research into his opponent. The research was conducted by a licensed private investigator. He assured us that everything was vetted by the campaign's lawyers to ensure that nothing was illegal. He added that the research was done to see if they could find any significant vulnerabilities in Jeff Horn.

Bollinger unlocked a drawer of his desk and pulled out a file. He passed the file across to Beckett.

"And you found some." I said.

"Oh yes." Bollinger replied. "Look, politics is politics, but I'm not a bad guy. I figured as long as I was ahead in the polls, there was no reason to use it."

Beckett opened the file to find a series of photographs. A look of shock appeared on her face.

"That's Councilman Horn?" she said in surprise.

I looked over to get a view of the photographs. My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at what I saw. They were of a naked Jeff Horn engaged in sexual relations with a woman.

"And that is not his wife." I pointed out.

The photographs were an eye opener in more ways than one. Beckett returned the photographs back to the file and closed it. I did not get to see all of them and almost let out a note of complaint. Beckett asked Bollinger if she could take the file. Bollinger was all too happy for the police to take possession of them. He also provided Beckett with the name and address of the private investigator who had taken the photos.

In the car driving to speak to the private investigator, Beckett was silently seething and I got my chance to take another look at the photographs. There were several things that I noticed about the photos as I flipped through them. One was that Councilman Horn follicularly challenged and wore a toupe. In these photos he was bareheaded so to speak. Another thing I noticed was his partner in these bedroom gymnastics was blonde, young and attractive. The other thing I could not help but notice was that she was extremely flexible as was the councilman.

"You got to hand it to Councilman Horny." I said, as I flipped through the photos. "He is incredibly flexible for a guy his age."

Beckett glanced over to me.

"Look at that." I said as I turned a photo to show her. "You ever do that?"

"Would you put those away." Beckett said.

"I'm just saying he's got to do yoga or Pilates or something."

As much as I would have loved to continue going over the photographs, I did as Beckett requested. I put them back in the folder and closed it.

"Why is it always the 'family value' guys that get caught with their pants down?" Beckett lamented.

"Because the Universe loves irony." I informed her. "And most people are hypocrites."

And some men in power are the most hypocritical of all. They believe they can get away with having affairs, that they wont be found out. It comes an awful shock to them when their sordid secrets are splashed across the front page of the the Ledger or magazines in vivid colour.

"And what was that girl thinking?" Beckett said in a tone that was half angry, half exasperation. "That he would leave his wife and kids for her?"

"That is so sexist." I said accusingly.

"Why is that so sexist?" Beckett retorted.

"You assume that just because she is a woman, that she was after a relationship." I said. "Did you ever think maybe she was in for the sex?"

"Yes I did." Beckett nodded her head. "And then I saw him." She cast a glance to the file I was holding.

"What was it that turned you off?" I said. "That he was wearing a rug?"

Beckett shot me a glare.

"Too soon?" I said, feigning a shocked look.

Beckett shook her head but I caught sight of the smile the was threatening to break out as she turned her attention back to the road. I was pleased to see that I had managed to get Beckett into a better mood. My work was done for the time being I thought to myself.

"I just hope that the PI can help us." Beckett said.

Beckett took a call from Esposito who was calling from the Axium hotel. He reported that the rug turned out to be a dead end. He had been told by Housekeeping, they had dumped a couple of dozen of those rugs the previous week. Half were donated to thrift shops and the other half went into dumpsters. From what he had been told Esposito said that some of Creason's clientele were known to be pretty hard on the rooms.

XXXXX

_**What did you think of this effort?**_

_**Con **_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The Case of Hell Hath No Fury

Part 3

The private investigator's name was Bruce Kirby. He was pushing sixty, with a definite middle age spread around his waist. He was just below average height with a bald head and sporting a salt and pepper goatee. His porcine like face and narrow eyes had more than a few creases the result of a hard life that consisted of too many cigarettes and booze. This ensemble was finished off with a grey three piece suit, well tailored and expensive that bespoke that private investigation was a lucrative trade.

Kirby's office was large and sparsely furnished, a large oak desk dominated the room. There were a number of stand alone shelves which held cameras and other pieces of equipment used in the investigation trade. Some of the pieces were old and of antique quality.

Kirby was seated behind his large desk reclining back on the upholstered chair nursing a whisky in a cut glass tumbler. He had not bothered to rise from his chair to greet us when we were shown in but his amused look took on a look of curiosity briefly before the amusement returned. He took a sip from his tumbler.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you?" Kirby asked, holding up his drink.

"No thanks, Mr Kirby. I'm on duty." Beckett replied.

"Never stopped me." Kirby chuckled.

Beckett's eyebrows rose a little in surprise. "You were on the job?"

"Twenty years out of the 134th." Kirby said. He glanced in my direction. "Of course, back then, we had other cops as partners, not second-rate novelists."

I was inspecting some of Kirby's surveillance equipment when he made that remark. I could feel his contempt wash over me. I straightened up and looked at him.

"Yeah, don't get me started." Beckett sighed quickly.

I was surprised and did not know what to take offence the most, his remark or Beckett's comeback. I chose Kirby's. I looked at him.

"Excuse me? 'Second-rate'" I said.

"'Hot lead poured out of cold steel'?" Kirby recited. "Come on, it's not exactly Shakespeare?"

I was a little taken aback to hear him recite something of my work. Okay, I did use that line, once, and it was in one of my early books. I am the first to admit Shakespeare I am not, but second-rate? I am many things but I am not second rate. I was ready to argue back.

"Will you put that down?" Kirby growled as he pointed to what I was holding in my hand.

I returned the piece of equipment back on the shelf. I took a couple of steps towards Kirby's desk ready to defend my literary talents.

"How long were you working for the Bollinger campaign, Mr Kirby?" Beckett asked.

I suspected that Beckett sensed that I had been offended at being called second-rate and was ready to pick up the cudgels so she steered this meeting towards the investigation.

"A couple of weeks. But it was a fun one." Kirby grinned. "Mr Family Values tells his wife that he's going to work late, probably crash at the office. Twenty minutes later, he's 'polling his constituency'."

"And what about the girl?" Beckett asked.

Kirby took a sip of his whisky before he grinned up at Beckett. "What I could see, she was worth every cent."

"She was a pro?" Beckett looked surprised.

"You don't think with a body like that she's going to swoon over his stump speeches, do you?" Kirby chuckled.

I looked across to Beckett, I could see by the look on her face she was thinking.

"Makes you wonder what else he had a taste for." I said.

"And what it led to." Beckett replied. She turned to look at a still grinning Kirby. "Do you have an address?"

Kirby shook his head. "Strictly outcall." He replied.

Kirby took a sip of his drink before he set it down. He reached over to his computer and tapped a few keys.

"You know," He said, a smile growing on his face. "Whores used to have street corners, and now they have websites."

Kirby turned the monitor of his computer and revealed the website for VIP Liaisons.

XXX

I was seated at Esposito's desk, Esposito and Ryan flanked me as we were looking at the computer. Having been given the website address I thought it only right that I should take a look at it and see what I could come up with. Esposito and Ryan were only too happy to provide supervision, seeing that I was using police equipment. A couple of other detectives thought it was a good idea to provide more supervision. All of us were inspecting the VIP Liaisons website.

"Damn! Those are some seriously fine five-star class B misdemeanors." Esposito remarked as he stared at the screen which was scrolling through the photographs of the list of girls that were available.

There were murmurs of agreement from the men standing around gazing at the screen, and supervising. I wont say we were drooling but we were pretty close to it.

"Dude, between you and me, you ever pay for it?" Ryan inquired.

The question was addressed to me. I looked at him. "Are you counting my marriages?" I said.

Ryan reached for the mouse and scrolled the page down.

"Wait, stop!" I called out, the moment I saw the picture of the girl who had been with Councilman Horn in those photographs. "That's the girl!"

"Look at her." Ryan sighed, as he gazed at the girl's picture. "If I had your money..."

He never got the chance to finish the sentence. The hard clip of heels on hardwood approaching had the other supervising detectives scattering back to their desks, trying not to look too guilty. Beckett swept past our desk.

"This isn't phone sex, Ryan." Beckett said coolly. "You just don't pay for the two minutes that you used."

It was a great jab from her. Esposito and I could not help but snigger at the remark and Ryan's blushing reaction. Beckett ignoring Ryan's discomfort passed over to him some files that she had brought with her.

"The 800 number is registered to a PO box from out of state." Beckett reported. "We're going to have to get Cyber to track down the IP address, see where it's hosted."

"What if the IP's out of state too?" I asked.

"We just coordinate with the local Pds." Esposito explained.

"If they're willing to cooperate." Ryan added as he looked over one of the files he had been given.

"Sites like these are designed to evade authorities." Beckett said. "We'll get there. Just take us some time."

I did not like the sound of that. It could take nearly forever is what I thought. Suddenly I had a better idea. I pulled out my phone and checked the contact number on the screen.

"Or you could do it the easy way." I announced, as I dialled the number.

"Castle, what are you doing?" Beckett demanded, noticing the phone at my ear.

Beckett's face clouded as she started moving around the desk. I pushed back from my chair and got up and started to move away. The call was answered.

"Hi! My name's Richard." I said. "I'm a very generous man looking to arrange a very special date with Tiffany."

Beckett hissed at me as she started to chase me trying to get at the phone. I dodged and weaved as I ran. I gave my name over the phone, thanked the receptionist at VIP Liaisons and rang off. I didn't realise she had chased me half way across the bullpen.

"Castle, you just can't call and arrange a date with a prostitute." Beckett scolded.

"Why not?"

"Because we're the police." She replied, trying to keep her anger in check.

It was nice of her to include me as 'the police'. I was quite touched but it was not true.

"No, no, no. You're the police." I pointed out, and grinned at her. "I'm just a lonely upscale gentleman looking for a date."

Beckett glared angrily at me.

"Bet you I find her first." I added.

I punctuated the remark with a waggle of my eyebrows. That only made Beckett roll her eyes. She was about to open her mouth to add something further to this discussion but was interrupted by a delivery guy calling out my name.

"Right here." I said turning around.

On seeing the delivery guy my face lit up like a Christmas tree. The guy

had a trolley on which sat a very large cardboard box.

"Where do you want it boss?" The man asked.

I pointed in the direction of the break room. "Straight through there."

The delivery guy nodded his head and started for the break room.

"Castle?" Beckett said.

"You're going to love this." I told her eagerly. I took her by the arm and propelled her towards the break room.

"No, I'm sure I'm not." She grumbled.

I called out to Esposito and Ryan to come and join us. They showed a little more enthusiasm as they rose from their chairs and followed us to the break room.

I motioned to the delivery guy to place the box on the table and I came to stand beside it and turned to face a brooding Beckett and expectant looking Esposito and Ryan.

"Because you guys have been so wonderfully hospitable to me, I just wanted to return the favour." I announced. The look on Beckett's face mellowed as curiosity got the better of her.

"And because your coffee is basically crap," I paused and motioned to the delivery guy to turn the box around which he did, to reveal a picture of a coffee machine. "I got you an espresso machine!"

Both Esposito and Ryan broke into bright appreciative smiles. Beckett on the other, looked astonished and hesitant. I don't know what she was thinking that I had gotten them but I'm sure she don't think it was a coffee machine. She stared for a moment before she found her voice.

"I think my phone's ringing." She stammered before she backed out of the break room.

"I looked at the delivery guy. "I don't know how to put this together. That's part of the delivery, right?"

The delivery guy nodded his head.

"Excellent." I chimed.

I looked back through the open door to the departing figure of Detective Beckett. Okay, her reaction was not was I hoping for. A smile, yes. A simple thank you? I would have taken that. But 'I think my phone's ringing?' Did not see that one coming, let me tell you.

I had been thinking about getting a coffee machine for the guys for a while. The thought had first popped into my head when I took my first sip of the precinct's coffee and almost choked on it. This morning was the decider. I could not take the coffee they served here any more. I had to do something about it. A couple of calls later and the top of the line espresso machine that was being set up in the break room was the result.

I had not been lying when I told the guys that they had been hospitable to me, for which I was grateful. I was. The espresso machine was my way of saying thanks. The guys were grateful and appreciative of the gesture. Even Captain Montgomery thanked me.

XXX

Here is a little secret you may not know about me. I like to cook, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it. Not celebrity chef standard, I'll grant you but I can whip up my own dishes of culinary excellence. I guess I got this love of cooking when I was raising Alexis. I wanted her have good nutritional food so the job fell to me. The other thing I like about cooking is when Alexis helps me out in the kitchen. I enjoy these father daughter moments, I treasure them.

When I returned from the day at the precinct I got diner started. Alexis was helping me chop up some onions. We were both wearing goggles so that the fumes of the onions did not make our eyes water.

As we were chopping away we were talking about the case.

"I don't get it." Alexis said frowning. "If Creason didn't do it, then how does the rug fit in?"

"The killer probably heard about the feud between Horn and Creason and tried to shift suspicion." I explained. "Which is stupid, because without the rug it would've looked like a mugging gone wrong."

"So by trying to look smart, they were actually being stupid." Alexis said.

"I think you just described the human condition."

Alexis stopped chopping and looked up at me. "Speaking of the human condition, how's it going with Detective Beckett?"

All of a sudden I felt a little uncomfortable. "What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"Oh come on Dad." Alexis said, a small grin on her face. "You are basing a character off her. And you always say, you have to love your characters."

This conversation was venturing into territory I was definitely not comfortable with. Yes, I have always said that you have to love your characters. And yes, there were many things I felt for Beckett but I was not ready to discuss them with my daughter.

"Well she is a character." I replied. "But, uh, just research, nothing more."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

My daughter gave me a smiling disbelieving look. I know she wanted to pursue this topic of conversation but I was saved by the appearance of my mother. At least initially that was the thought that popped into my head when I saw her walk into the kitchen.

"Well. I found out why your books aren't selling." Mother announced with a dramatic flare that only years on the stage could give you. "Listen to this review."

I did not want to hear what she had found but I was a prisoner with no escape.

"'His work has become so hackneyed, so cliché, that we wonder if Mr Castle has anything new to say. It appears that the magic, if there ever was any, is long gone." Mother read from the sheet of paper that she had in her hand. She swept me into a tight hug.

"Oh, darling." she wailed. "I know it's awful. I'm sorry. Daggers to the heart."

Alexis took the sheet of paper from mother's hand while I was getting the comforting hug and read the source of the article.

"The Syracuse Times-Reader?"

Mother released me from the hug and stepped back.

"Don't you worry." She declared. "I'm going to write them a piece of my mind. And who cares if they say the magic is gone? Harper Lee only wrote one book. You've written dozens. Of course, hers was literature...but still..."

With that and another dramatic flourish Mother swept out of the kitchen. I was feeling a little stunned having experienced the impact of Hurricane Martha. My eyes slid across to Alexis who was trying to stifle a giggle.

"How long do you think it took her to find that review?" I asked quietly.

"Probably all afternoon."

"Yeah."

"Oh come on." Alexis said brightening. "You know she does it out of love, right?"

I nodded my head.

"She thinks it's her job to keep you grounded."

"Well, I certainly feel grounded."

I should say that I felt more like grounded into a pulp. Mother had been doing that for more than a few years. Every time I had a new book come out, Martha Rogers would scour the reviews finding the worst one she could find and then read it out to me. I sometimes can't help but think that she takes a little too much pleasure in this self appointed task.

I was drawn from my thoughts by my telephone which started to ring. I left Alexis in charge of the bridge and left the kitchen to answer the phone. To my sudden delight the caller was Tiffany the prostitute that Councilman Horn had been seeing. I could not keep the smile from face as I asked her what she was wearing. I wont tell you what she told me. We agreed to a meeting later that evening.

After ringing off from Tiffany I made a call to Detective Beckett.

"Guess who's got a date with a prostitute!" I crowd the moment Beckett answered the call.

XXX

The restaurant I chose for the meeting was one I had been to before and knew that staff there. It was upscale but not as expensive as many of the more well known eating establishments that are found in this fair city. The place was decorated in reds and shades of black. I was seated at a table facing the entrance, nursing a martini that I had ordered while waiting for Tiffany's appearance. On this particular night there weren't too many people in the restaurant.

Tiffany arrived and my eyes lit up. She would have been in her early twenties and was wearing a tight, short, hot red dress that accentuated all her curves in the most delightful way. Whatever this was costing me was well worth the expenditure.

I rose from the table and moved to greet her. She broke into a smile on seeing me.

"Richard. I'm Tiffany." Tiffany announced as she shook my hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Tiffany." I replied smoothly. I pulled out a chair for her to sit. "Please."

"Wow, a gentleman." Tiffany remarked as she sat down.

"We're a dying breed."

"Well, then it's lucky I found you." Tiffany smiled.

Once Tiffany was seated I moved to the chair next to her and pulled it out for Beckett who had been waiting for Tiffany's arrival at a table at the back.

"Actually, it's lucky that we found you." I said.

Beckett sat down on the chair I held for her and then I resumed my seat.

"Detective Kate Beckett." Beckett said as she held up her badge. "We need to ask you a few questions regarding your relationship with Councilman Jeff Horn."

Tiffany's expression turned from surprise, to shock and then an angry glare as she looked at me.

I mouthed an apology to her but she was still a little upset.

After Tiffany calmed down she told us that Horn had been one of her regulars but she insisted she had nothing to do with his death. She saw the councilman once or maybe twice a week and at first it was only just to talk.

"Right. He paid you to talk." Beckett scoffed, shooting a look of disbelief

"Detective, most men come to me because they're lonely, because the people in their lives don't listen anymore." Tiffany explained. "The sex is just a way to feel connected again."

"Okay, when was the last time you and Councilman Horn 'connected'?"

Tiffany cast a glance in Beckett's direction before she spoke.

"A couple of weeks ago." She said. "He came to me, hysterical. Said he could not see me anymore."

"What happened? His wife find out?" I asked.

"No. Someone else." Tiffany replied. "He said that he was being blackmailed. Someone had photos of us."

"Who?" Beckett said.

Tiffany shook her golden locks. "He didn't know. At first , he thought it was me." Tiffany paused a moment. "He got upset, and then he panicked. He thought that I had told my friends."

"And did you?" Beckett pressed.

"It may surprise you, Detective, but I have dreams of my own." Tiffany said. She paused and waved her hand "Look, this just pays the bills. If our relationship ever went public, he's not the only one that would be ruined."

"You said he panicked." I pointed out.

Tiffany nodded her head. She informed us that Councilman Horn was desperate to find out who was behind it. She also said the Councilman could not keep making payoffs without his campaign finding out about it.

Tiffany was not able to provide us with any more information.

XXX

In Beckett's car as she drove me home I could not contain my excitement about this case.

"Politics, escorts and blackmail?" I said happily. "This just gets better ."

"The councilman was looking for his blackmailer." Beckett replied. "What if he found him?"

"He gets violent, the blackmailer responds." I suggested.

"And then tries covering what he's done by implicating Creason."

I found that a very plausible explanation.

"So, all you need to do is find your blackmailer." I said.

Reaching my place Beckett chose to decline my invitation to come up for a cup of coffee, much to my disappointment. No, it's not what you think! My intentions were pure, I assure you. I wanted to discuss the case further with her, build theory, and I thought the friendly atmosphere of my humble abode would be the perfect venue. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

XXX

The following day Detective Beckett and I returned to Jason Bollinger's campaign office. We were standing in Bollinger's office with the candidate. He had the compromising photos of his opponent, so he was suspect number one on the list of possible blackmailers.

"That's impossible." Bollinger declared. "I kept those photos under lock and key."

Beckett had not come out and accuse Bollinger that he was the blackmailer but had implied that it could have been someone involved in the campaign. Me, I would have come right out and accused Bollinger of being the blackmailer. Just to see his reaction, hoping he would give himself away.

Thankfully, Beckett was the cop here.

"No offence, Jason." Beckett replied. "But your desk isn't exactly Fort Knox. If somebody knew about them, they wouldn't be difficult to get."

"Do you know how many people are in and out of this office." A look of exasperation covered Bollinger's face.

"No, but I would like a list." Beckett ssaid.

"Now wait a minute." Bollinger said. "You intend on opening up an investigation on my campaign

with two weeks left in the election? What are you trying to do, cost me the race?"

"What are you worried about?" I said. "You're running unopposed.

The exasperation on Bollinger's face changed and he frowned. He reached for a remote control on his desk.

"Not anymore. Lauire Horn announced that she is running for her husband's seat." Bollinger informed us. He turned towards a TV set and pointed the remote. The TV slowly came to life.

"Yesterday, I had an eight point lead." Bollinger said. "With the sympathy bump, by tonight we'll be tied."

The TV revealed a shot of Laurie Horn standing in front of a bank of microphones, she was surrounded by her children and Frank Nesbit. Laurie was telling the reporters and supporters that her husband's tragedy should not stand in the way of his vision for future of New York. Bollinger froze the vision and turned back to look at us.

"The irony is that if I released those photos now, the people will love her even more." Jason added.

XXX

In Beckett's car I was going over the list of people that Bollinger had given us. It had taken a little while for a campaign worker to get the list together and hand it over to Beckett.

"At least 300 hundred people had access to those photos." I remarked, scanning the list of names hoping to spot one that was familiar. "Are you planning on questioning all of them?"

That was a prospect that I was not exactly looking forward to. A task like that could take days, weeks even. It wouldn't be fun.

"No, they're just for reference." Beckett informed me.

I let out a sigh of relief on hearing her say that.

"Horn was worried he couldn't keep paying without the campaign finding out." Beckett added.

"So?" I ventured.

"So, if the money was coming from the campaign, then there's bound to be a trail."

I was impressed with Beckett. I had not thought of that. And so like what _Deep Throat _said to Woodward and Bernstein, we were going to follow the money. I did not need to ask Beckett where our next stop was going to be.

XXX

Frank Nesbit greeted us in his office at the Horn campaign head quarters. He looked more than a little surprised when Beckett informed him that Councilman Horn had been blackmailed. The look of surprise turned to shock when he looked through the photographs of the councilman and Tiffany in bed that Beckett handed him

"Blackmail?" Nesbit said shocked.

"We believe he may have been making payoffs through the campaign." Beckett said.

"I've known Jeff for years." Nesbit replied. "He's a good family man."

I tried not to smirk at that remark and I certainly did not voice the first thought that leaped into my head, 'yeah they all say that'.

"You had no idea?" I said instead.

Nesbit shook his head. "None." He said. "If this gets out..."

"Mr Nesbit, if he used campaign funds to make payments, then we should be able to trace them back to the blackmailer." Beckett informed him. "But we need access to your campaign ledgers."

"Yeah, of course. I'll get you a disc." Nesbit sighed. He rose to his feet. He glanced down at the photos that were on the desk and then looked at Beckett. "Look, Detective...What he did was wrong. I'm not excusing it. But if you release those photos, you'll be doing irreparable harm to all the good he did for this city, not to mention causing immeasurable pain to his family."

Beckett nodded her head in understanding. "Those photos are evidence in a murder investigation. We have no intention of releasing them." She assured him.

A look of relief swept across Nesbit's face.

"Thank god for that." He said.

"But you should be aware that, one way or another, these sorts of things inevitably see the light of the day." Beckett added smoothly.

XXX

On returning to the precinct Beckett passed over the list of people we had been given by Bollinger and the campaign ledger from the Horn campaign over to Detectives Esposito and Ryan and ordered them to cross check them. The boys were a touch less than pleased to be given this task but one look from Beckett had them scurrying to carry out her orders.

Beckett then turned her attention to the murder board. Together we went over what we had uncovered in this case so far. We both drew the conclusion that the blackmailer angle was our best bet at finding the killer. We just needed for the boys to come through with the cross referencing.

With a pause in the case Beckett turned her attention the paperwork awaiting her on her desk. Files from previous cases and ones that are still current, reports to sign off on, reports for the DA in preparation for upcoming court cases any number of things. I have quickly learned that most detectives handle more than one case at a time. It's definitely not like it is in the movies or TV where those detectives deal with one case until it's solved.

For the next couple of hours Beckett ploughed through the paperwork steadily and I got to watch her. That was something that she found annoying and I found rather enjoyable. I did interrupt her on a couple of occasions to ask her some questions on procedures and she was happy enough to answer the questions. I was not sure but I think she welcomed the interruptions just to take a break from the eye numbing paperwork she was doing.

Later on when I did something to annoy Beckett—I really don't know what I did but I did get the Beckett Death Glare for my troubles-, so instead of telling me off she got up from her desk and headed for the break room telling me she was going to get a cup of coffee. I leaped to my feet and followed her. This was the chance to make her a cup of coffee from the new espresso machine.

I was more than a little surprised when Beckett refused a cup from the machine. I pleaded and cajoled her and even begged her to try a cup but she steadfastly refused the offer. Another thing I discovered about Detective Beckett she can be very stubborn when she wants to be.

I gave up trying and turned my attention to making a cup for myself. I may not be able to put together an espresso machine but I can certainly whip up a pretty mean cup of cappuccino or espresso. This time I made myself a cappuccino.

As I was pouring in the frothy milk into the cup I glanced across and saw Beckett watching me.

"You got something against foamy richness?" I asked.

"Yeah." Beckett replied. She reached for the regular coffee pot and poured a good measure into her mug. "It annoys me."

I brought my own mug to my lips and took a sip. It was a pretty good cappuccino, even if I do say so myself. I made a show of enjoying the sip of the coffee, making all sorts of appreciative noises. Beckett shook her at me but kept her thoughts to herself.

Detectives Esposito and Ryan entered the break room. Ryan went to the espresso machine and made coffees for himself and his partner. Esposito moved over to Beckett.

"We cross-referenced Horn's campaign payouts to the volunteers and employees at Bollinger's office." He said.

"And?" Beckett prompted.

"There were a series of of off-book payments totalling thirty grand, routed bank-to-bank with no payee, just an account number." Ryan reported.

"Were you able to track down the account number?" Beckett asked.

Esposito nodded his head to a frowning Beckett.

"Yeah, it's uh Bruce Kirby. The PI that took the pictures." He said. "He's your blackmailer."

Beckett shot me a look of surprise which no doubt mirrored my own reaction. She turned back to Esposito.

"Did you run him up?"

"Of course." Esposito almost looked offended. "A real peach. Lost his badge for excessive force. On probation for criminal intimidation."

"And he has registration for a .38." Ryan added, as he handed over a coffee to Esposito.

"The same calibre that killed Councilman Horn." I said.

Beckett looked at the three of us as we stood near the espresso machine sipping our fresh coffee. She rolled her eyes and shook her head before she left the break room, taking her own coffee with her. The boys and I toasted our coffee and took another sip from our cups.

"Oh that's good." Ryan said.

"That's the stuff." I agreed.

"Yeah." Ryan nodded his head.

"Mmm, it's good, man." Esposito added.

"Flavour country." I said almost reverentially.

XXXXX

_**Thoughts?**_

_**Con **_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The Case of Hell Hath No Fury

Part 4

Next morning Bruce Kirby was seated at the table in the interrogation room being questioned by Beckett and Esposito. Kirby looked less than pleased to be in there. Come to think of it, I can't recall ever seeing any suspect looking happy to be in the interrogation room. I was in the observation room with Captain Montgomery. I did not mind sitting this one out. I was beginning to get used to it.

"I figured, I got the photos." Kirby said in answer to a question put to him by Beckett. "The gutless punk isn't gonna use them, why the hell shouldn't I?"

"Because it's illegal?" Esposito suggested.

"Hey, I'm not the one that was dipping my churro in sugar nearly half my age." Kirby shot back. "They guy had it coming."

"Except he found you out. He came after you." Beckett said.

"Yeah." Kirby grunted.

"So what happened, Kirby? He lose his cool? He get violent?"

"What? No."

"You put a round in his head and tried to pin it on Creason?" Beckett pressed.

"Whoa, whoa Sherlock." Kirby said. "I didn't kill him."

Captain Montgomery who was standing beside me as we watched snorted derisively. I glanced at him.

"If I had a dime every time I heard them say, 'I didn't kill him', I could have retired years ago." Captain Montgomery said with a grin. I returned the smile and shifted my gaze back to the window.

Beckett shot Kirby a disbelieving look.

"He was coming to meet me, yes." Kirby said quickly. "With a proposition. He wanted to know what it would take to make it all go away for ever."

"What did you tell him?" Beckett asked.

"I thought, what the hell? 250,000." Kirby shrugged. "I never thought he would say yes. He did. He got the money. The night he was killed, he was coming to meet with me. He never showed."

Beckett wound up the questioning and rose to her feet. She strode for the door. Esposito followed her out of the room. A moment later both Beckett and Esposito entered the observation room.

"What do you think?" She asked the captain.

"Waiting to receive a blackmail payout from the vic?" Montgomery scoffed. "My three year old son could come up with a better story than that."

"It's so bad it might be true." I suggested.

Esposito looked at me. "Yeah, well we got a team tossing his place for the weapon."

Montgomery nodded to the window. "Book him on the blackmail till we see what the search turns up.

Both Beckett and Esposito nodded their heads.

"In the meantime, follow the money." Montgomery ordered. "If this bozo's telling the truth..."

"Then Horn had a quarter of a million dollars when he was killed." Beckett stated.

"So where's the money?" Esposito asked.

"And where does an underpaid public servant get it in the first place?" Montgomery added.

I could not help but smile at that question. You see, I have had some experience in this area of 'underpaid public servants' in need of money.

"Well," I said, drawing everyone's attention. "He'd go where all politicians go."

Beckett gave me a questioning look. I smiled a little more.

"To people who like him." I explained. "People who gave him money before."

XXX

It took Beckett a couple of calls in order to locate the whereabouts of Frank Nesbit. The first campaign worker she spoke to proved very unhelpful, so much so I thought she was going to threaten whoever she was speaking to with obstruction of justice. I could almost see wisps of steam rising from her. The second call turned out to be more fruitful. Laurie Horn was going to hold a press conference at a disused warehouse on the Upper Westside.

The traffic was pretty heavy and getting to the place where the press conference was being held before it started was pretty touch and go. However even with Beckett's exceptional driving skills we were not able to get there on time.

When we arrived the place was filled with campaign supporters, undecided constituents and a large posse of reporters both TV and newspaper.

Nesbit was on the stage giving a little speech introducing Laurie Horn. As the grieving widow and now replacement candidate stepped up to the microphones and was greeted with loud applause, Nesbit caught sight of Detective Beckett and me. I motioned to him. Nesbit did not look all that pleased at seeing us. Reluctantly he got off the stage and walked over to where we were standing at the back of the scrum of people.

Nesbit reminded us that this was a city council race and not one for the US Senate and the Horn campaign relied on thousands of small donations and not a few big ones when we asked for names of the campaign's biggest supporters. Some of them must have had deep pockets I suggested. Nesbit informed us that those deep pockets that I was suggesting were limited by the law. Beckett pressed on by asking if the deceased Councilman Horn had any supporters that would be willing to go the extra mile.

Nesbit could not hide the resentful look that appeared on his face. He looked at Beckett and told her with all due respect that he was not going to help her start a witch hunt against the biggest supporters of the Horn campaign. If she wanted to go through the campaign contributors, he was fine with that because that was a matter of public record. But anything else Beckett was on her own. He then excused himself and returned to the stage just as Laurie Horn finished her speech and started taking questions from the gathered media contingent.

It was not the kind of cooperation from Nesbit we were expecting but it was understandable. A lot of big campaign contributors are usually very reluctant to have their names linked to campaigns for one reason or another. Campaign managers go out of their way to keep those big campaign contributors' names secret, especially if they want they want their candidate to continue to receive further large contributions.

Beckett and I did not hang around to watch the rest of the press conference.

XXX

Later in the evening I was sitting in my office doing some research. I was also revelling in the peace and quite. Actually, I was also recovering from another bout with Mother. She had swept in sounding like a one woman Greek Chorus, wailing and lamenting at the hurtfulness of the reviewers of _Storm Fall_. I was surprised she wasn't rending her garment as well. She had found another bad review which she showed me with a little too much glee before she returned to wailing and lamenting, and promising to write to that reviewer to give them a piece of her her mind, just like she had promised to do with the reviewer from the Syracuse Times-Reader. I took it with a degree of stoicism, and thanked her for caring. Her letter would have to wait though as she was dressed to the nines for another night on the town with her friends.

I know Mother means well but one's ego can only take so much deflating and battering.

It took a few minutes to put aside Mother's unique way of showing her love and return to the case. The question that still revolved in my head was, where did Councilman Horny...sorry Councilman Horn, get the quarter of a million dollars to pay off his blackmailer? An hour or so of thinking and searching the internet had drawn a blank so far.

"Hey." Alexis called as she walked into the office.

"Hey." I replied, looking up from my laptop and giving my daughter a smile. "Finished your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Want to finish mine?" I asked.

Alexis came to stand at the front of the desk.

"Well, that depends." she said. "How much are you offering to pay me?"

"Oh, I taught you well." I chuckled.

"Gina called. She wanted me to remind you about the book reading and book signing at Broadway Books tomorrow night."

"That was nice of her." I said absently. My eyes were focused on the New York Ledger website. I had been avoiding her calls all day.

"Yeah. And if you don't show, she will..." Alexis paused as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and read from it. "She will...drip honey on your eyeballs and let loose 100 fire ants."

Knowing ex-wife number two and publisher, I have no doubt she did mean my oculary organs but another pair of organs further south but in deference to my daughter's sensitivities had said 'eyeballs'.

"Okay. What's worse? 100 fire ants or reading to a crowd?" I asked Alexis.

I picked up the review that mother had found and left with me, and read from it.

"'Prose so bad, it sent me screaming out into the snow'."

"You know," Alexis said, a small smile rising on her face. "If you really want to feel sorry for yourself, you should read the review in the Ledger." Alexis came around the desk to stand beside me.

"Really? What is that damn liberal elite media saying about me now?" I asked as I looked into the distance.

Alexis leaned over and brought up the review page on The Ledger website, and read from it.

"Richard Castle's stirring finale reminds us what good pulp fiction is all about. It makes us desire a world of startling imperfection, so we can rise above and become the heroes we always imagine ourselves to be."

I have to admit it was rather good. Far better than I had been expecting. Having written so many books over the years I have received reviews that have ranged from the very good to the scathingly bad. Thanks to mother's efforts I have read or heard a lot of the bad reviews. In all of that one thing I have learned about bad reviews is this, 'those who can do, those who can't, write scathing reviews.

"It used to be such a good paper. To see it fallen so far, it's sad really." I sighed.

"Shut up." Alexis said nudging me. "I'm proud off you."

That brought a smile to my face as I looked up at her. "Well, you remember that next time I sing the peanut butter song in front of your friends."

"Have you caught the killer yet?" Alexis asked, changing the subject.

I almost laughed at my daughter's quick changing of the subject. The less said about the peanut butter song the better, is what my daughter was trying to convey in her less than subtle way. I can't blame her though, but I used to love doing the song when she was younger. It is one of the cringe inducing things that fathers do to embarrass their daughters. I had plans of performing it for her 21st party just for old time's sake.

"No." I informed her. Then a thought occurred to me. "Hey, if you were in a lot of trouble and you needed a quarter of a million dollars, where would you get it?"

"I'd just ask you." Alexis said with a smile. She leaned down kissed me. "Night."

"Good night." I replied.

I turned my attention back to the laptop. I stared at the Ledger page. A moment later a thought occurred to me. I quickly changed the page and brought up the article on Laurie Horn.

"I'd just ask you." I whispered as I stared at the photograph of Laurie Horn.

After that light bulb moment I did some more research and what I found brought a smile to my face and not long after that had me heading out of the loft.

XXX

There is one thing you have to know about Detective Beckett, she is very dedicated to her job. While most cops when their shift ends will head off home or go out and forget about the case they're working on until the start of their next shift, Beckett is not one of those cops. There will be times when you will find her at desk after hours going over a case, searching for clues or leads, something or anything that will point her in the direction of the murderer. There have been many times when such extra work and extra hours has proven fruitful. At first I didn't know why she did it, at first I did not know how she did it. It was not long before I learned the reason why she did it.

When I left the loft my destination was the precinct. I knew that Beckett was working back because she had told me that was what she was going to be doing when she had dropped me off at the loft after our fruitless meeting with Nesbit.

I came up the stairs rather than using the elevator to find the bullpen practically deserted, the lights had been muted. I was about to come barrelling around the corner when I pulled up suddenly. I could see Beckett at her desk looking around furtively to see if there was anyone around. Finding no one close by she rose from her desk and grabbed her mug and headed for the break room.

I could not help but grin at the sight of that. I knew she was going into the break room to try the coffee from the espresso machine. She just didn't want anyone to see her after having made such a show of refusing to use the machine earlier and refusing offers of cappuccinos or lattes that I had made.

Trying to make as little noise as possible I left my hiding spot and headed for the break room. I paused in the doorway as silent as possible and saw that I had been right. There was Detective Beckett standing at the espresso machine watching as the dark brown liquid trickled into a cup. There was an expectant look on her face. Just as she reached for the cup to pick it up, I made my move.

"Hi." I said suddenly and a little too loudly.

I swear I saw Beckett jump a couple of inches in the air. She was so startled that she spilled the coffee she had just poured herself.

"Hi!" Beckett stammered.

I could have made a joke of finding her at the espresso machine, ribbed her mercilessly about it but I didn't. I was tempted though, let me tell you. Instead I kept a straight face.

"There's something I need to show you." I said excitedly and then ducked out, making my way over to Beckett's desk where I pulled up the Ledger website.

Beckett having recovered from her startling she came back to her desk and sat down and saw that I had pulled up an old article on Jeff Horn. She shot me a questioning look and I motioned back to the computer monitor.

"I found this in the archives from his first run for office." I explained to her. "See, Horn wasn't wealthy, but his wife came from money. She tapped into her family trust to finance his first campaign."

Beckett's eyebrows rose up in surprise as she looked at me, considering this new information.

"All this time we thought Horn was hiding his affair from his wife." Beckett said.

"Yeah. But what if she knew about the affair?" I replied. "What if he got the blackmail money from her?"

It certainly would make for a better story. It would be the way I would write this story I told her. I could see Beckett take on a thoughtful look as she considered this. A few moments later a small smile stole across her face. She had bought what I had presented. Having found another avenue for Beckett to investigate was pleasing. The smile on her face as she looked at me was reward enough.

XXX

The next morning I arrived earlier than usual. I was more than a little excited about the prospect that was going to unfold. Beckett was at her desk before me. I could not help but wonder if she had gone home or not. I was inclined to think that she had because of the change of clothes.

Beckett informed Esposito and Ryan about what I had come up with and sent them off to look into Laurie Horn's financials. The boys nodded and left.

The boys did not take all that long to get the information, an hour or so is all it took.

"According to the administrator of the family trust, Mrs Horn marketed about three hundred thousand worth of stocks last week." Esposito reported as he handed Beckett the file.

"She knew." Beckett declared.

Detective Ryan had been on the phone. He rang off and came over to where we were standing.

"Bank records indicate the funds were withdrawn two days before the exchange." Ryan informed us.

"Her husband's killed. $250,000 goes missing." I said. "And she doesn't say a word?"

Well you could see that Beckett, if the look on her face was anything to go by, was going to get an answer to that question. She ordered Esposito and Ryan to go and bring Laurie Horn in for more questioning. Then she busied herself herself with drawing up a search warrant for Laurie Horn's apartment.

Soon Beckett and I headed off to see Judge Markway to get his John Hancock on the search warrant. Our next stop was the Horn apartment. Several uniforms were waiting for us when we got there. Beckett had called in for back up the moment we had left Markway's chamber.

The Horn's housekeeper was startled to find several uniformed officers as well Detective Beckett and myself standing before her when she opened the front door. On being given the search warrant the housekeeper could only step aside and allowed the police to enter. The search of the house did not take too long. Beckett found what she was looking for.

XXX

Laurie Horn did not disguise her anger at being left alone in the interrogation room for several hours. She glared at Beckett and me when we came into the interrogation room. Beckett apologised to Laurie for keeping her waiting before she sat down and opened the folder she had brought with her. I took my seat beside Beckett. The detective started the interview with the question I had posed earlier that morning. A quarter of a million dollars goes missing, and she did not say a word?

"Of course I didn't say a word." Laurie said angrily. "It's none of your business."

"Despite the fact that it could have significant bearing on your husband's murder?" Beckett said.

Laurie replied that she had a family, her children's father was dead. What use would it be to have their names dragged through the mud, providing fodder for late night comedians.

I asked her when did she know about her husband.

Laurie told us that she found out when her trust called her to confirm the sale of the stocks. Apparently her husband had forged her signature on the papers, thinking that she would be too stupid to notice. She had confronted her husband about it and he had told her he needed the money for tax purposes. The reason he was doing it he told her was something that she would not understand. But Laurie said she understood. Everything that she wanted, and everything she wanted for their family and her husband could not keep his fly zipped.

I noted that Laurie said that last remark with great disdain, almost hatred for departed husband.

"So what did you decide to do?" Beckett asked.

"Between public humiliation and blackmail, I chose blackmail, and I told him to make it go away." Laurie replied.

"What do you think happened that night?"

Laurie said that she did not know.

"Okay." Beckett said and paused a moment. "So, that night, when he called, what did he actually say?"

"That he had the money. That he was going to meet the guy." Laurie replied. "And that was the last thing he said to me. God knows what happened after that."

Beckett nodded her head. She glanced down at her notes in front of her before she looked over to Laurie.

"And you're sure he had the money?"

"Yes, why?" Laurie replied. There was a flicker of nervousness on her confident face.

"Because we found it at your apartment." Beckett informed her.

"My apartment?" Laurie tried to look surprised at this piece of news.

"The search warrant was served this morning." I said, trying not to grin. "Your housekeeper was very cooperative."

"If your husband had the money when he was killed, how did it get back to your apartment?" Beckett questioned.

Laurie Horn did not reply. She looked at Beckett and then at me. Her expression hardened as the anger returned. When Laurie did not speak, Beckett moved in for the kill, so to speak.

"You were more than angry, weren't you?" Beckett said. "You were outraged. He didn't just betray you, he humiliated you and everyone was going to know. And so you decided to make it go away."

Laurie did not react for a moment. Her gaze focused into the middle distance, slowly she turned to look at Beckett.

"You see those wives in the inevitable press conference, standing stone faced next to their men and you think, 'How do they do that? How do they just stand there? How do they watch as their whole world melts into the spotlight of shame?'"

"And so you killed him." Beckett accused.

"No, I...I...was home." Laurie stammered.

"You called your husband at 11.00pm. What did you say?" Beckett said.

"I was with my daughters."

Beckett leaned a little towards Laurie.

"Conspiracy to commit murder is the same as murder, whether you were there or not." Beckett informed her. She paused to let her words sink in. "Are you ready to deal?"

For several moments Laurie Horn did not react. She did not move, possibly she was considering her situation. Beckett was ready to get to her feet when Laurie nodded her head to say that she would deal.

Laurie Horn then told us the story. It was her job to make the call. She was to tell her husband that the blackmailer had called and changed the location of the meeting place. She told her husband to go to the underpass where no one would see. Laurie said the murderer had it all arranged, even the rug for his body, all she had to do was make the call. The murderer said that he would make everything like it had been, he would make it look like someone else did it. He told her that no one would ever know.

As I sat in the interrogation room and listened to Laurie tell her story the lines from Sir Walter Scott's poem Marmion came to mind, your know the line; _'Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive'_

"Mrs Horn, Laurie, I need to know who." Beckett said.

"It was not supposed to be like this." Laurie said quietly. "We were friends, and we were going to change the world."

Beckett and I looked at each other. Laurie gave us the name of the murderer.

XXX

Detective Beckett strode towards the front door of the Horn Campaign office looking every inch the badass detective that she was. I have to thank Esposito for this little part of the story. She was flanked by Esposito and several uniforms. They breezed past the receptionist at the front desk and headed to where Frank Nesbit was standing talking to several campaign workers.

"Frank Nesbit you are under arrest for the murder of Jeff Horn." Beckett announced in a loud voice that caught everyone's attention.

"What?" Nesbit said looking startled. "That's ridiculous."

"Mrs Horn doesn't think so." Beckett glanced at Esposito. "Cuff him."

Esposito took out his handcuffs and moved towards Nesbit.

"Mr Nesbit you have the right to remain silent. Any..."

Esposito did not get a chance to finish giving Nesbit his Miranda rights. Nesbit suddenly realising that the game was up took to his heels and made a dash for freedom. Esposito and the uniforms gave chase. Nesbit dodged several campaign workers as he headed for the back door.

Suddenly nesbit came to an abrupt halt when he burst out the back door and saw who was waiting for him. Detective Ryan, a couple of uniforms and yours truly.

"Stop running, bro. Campaign's over." Ryan said with a grin.

The two uniforms moved in and restrained Nesbit. Esposito came up to him.

"Wasn't quite finished back there, Mr Nesbit." Esposito said as he slapped the cuffs on Nesbit and finished reading him Miranda rights.

XXX

Captain Montgomery emerged from his office and was heading out. Beckett and I quickly flanked him and gave him a briefing of the case we had just closed.

"After we found the weapon in Nesbit's office, he made a full confession." Beckett reported. "He got Laurie to call her husband and get him down to the overpass, and he took care of the rest."

"Politics was Nesbit's life. He figured if the scandal broke, his career would be over and he'd be damaged goods." I filled in.

"Sad thing is, he was was probably right." Montgomery said. "So what happens to the girls?"

"Horn had a sister upstate. She's coming down tomorrow to pick them up from Social Services." Beckett informed him.

"Good. And the rug?"

"A red herring." I said. "Nesbit heard they were dumping a bunch of them, and he figured it would keep us off his trail."

Montgomery reached the stairs and paused.

"Nice work." He said looking at me. "Oh and you too Beckett."

"Sir?" A look of outrage appeared on Beckett's face as she stared at her boos.

"Just yanking your chain, Detective." Montgomery laughed. "Just yanking your chain."

Montgomery laughed again, gave a wave goodbye and was gone.

Beckett turned to look at me to say something but her words were forestalled by the sudden ringing of my phone. Quickly I reached for it. Alexis was calling me.

"Hey, Dad, where are you?" Alexis demanded.

"Where should I be?" I asked, looking alarmed.

"Fire ants? Eyeballs?" She reminded me.

Suddenly I was a quivering mass as I realised that I had forgotten about the book reading and signing that I had to be at. I started for the elevators. I told Alexis to stall for me as I rang off and ran from the bullpen. I don't think I even said goodbye to Beckett in my haste to get to the book store.

XXX

I got to the book store a little late, well it was about half an hour late and for my sins I earned a threat of bodily harm from ex-wife number two and publisher. I think she mentioned something about fire ants as well. Well threats of harm is nothing new form her and I took the latest threats in my stride, I ignored them. Mother and Alexis were there as well to lend support for which I am always grateful.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a pretty good crowd assembled. Ladies aged in their forties and fifties, and a little older, were well represented. There was a smattering of younger ladies and a few men of various ages. The usual gathering of Richard Castle fans. There were also a couple of reporters as well.

I spent the next hour and a half signing books, thanking each and everyone for coming out and for buying my book, sharing a laugh with them perhaps. I always enjoy meeting my fans, if it was not for them I would not be where I'd be. There are some authors who find book signings a tedious business, almost like an imposition. Not me.

After the book signing I walked over to where a small stage had been set up with a lectern. Several rows of chairs had been arrayed around the stage and every chair had been filled with my fans. I was introduced by ex-wife number two and having completed that task vanished, having to attend some other function. I made a little speech, thanking everyone for coming out to see me and also to tell them a little bit about _Storm Fall_. Then I began to read excerpts from the book.

Each excerpt that I read was greeted with warm applause from the audience. I then came to the last excerpt. It was from the final pages of the book.

"She stood there in stunned disbelief as the light in his eyes dimmed. He reached out for her, and she took his hand, squeezing it for the very last time. She felt her heart stop a beat, and in that moment, she knew he was gone." I paused and cast a look across my audience to see there were many women quietly sobbing. I returned to the book. "Darkness fell across the face of the city, and across her face, as well. 'Good,' she thought, as the wind gathered up her hair. 'No one..."

It was at that moment I caught sight of the most sexiest pair of long legs I have ever beheld. Slowly looking up I saw Detective Beckett standing there removing her coat to reveal the short, hot pink sleeveless dress she was wearing. God she looked hot.

All manner of speech deserted me as my chest constricted. Breathing became difficult all of sudden. I stared dumbly at her as she struck a pose like some catwalk model. A smug and sultry look on her face as she gazed at me. How can someone look smug and sultry at the same time? I don't know but Beckett managed to pull it off.

Did I tell you she looked hot?

I don't know how I managed it but somehow I began to breath again, speech returned and I was able to finish the sentence.

"...will see my tears." Admittedly my voice sounded choked up.

The audience started applauding and I took a bow my eyes constantly sweeping over to where Beckett was standing. She was applauding as well and I thought the smug look had gone, replaced with a genuine smile. I thanked the audience and stepped off the stage where I was suddenly surrounded by people wanting more autographs.

It was about ten minutes before I could manage to break free and seek out Beckett. I found her talking to the store manager. As I approached her I could not help but drink in the sight of her in that hot pink number. Her shapely legs seemed to go on forever.

"Detective Beckett." I said smoothly as I walked up to her, smiling. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Beckett excused her self from the store manager and turned to look at me. The smug look had returned.

"I just figured, if you're going to bother me at my work, I should bother you." she said. "That was quite a reading. Very um...moving."

"Are you making fun of me?" I asked.

She looked off into the distance as she spoke. "'Good' she thought, as the wind gathered up her hair. 'No one will see my tears'." she mocked and turned to look at me. "How does wind gather up hair? I'm just curious."

"Oh, you're telling how to do my job?" I grinned.

The smile vanished from Beckett's face.

"Irritating isn't it?" She said.

It was that moment that Mother and Alexis chose to intrude. Mother was excited as she came over.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she chirped as she took sight of Beckett and the dress she was wearing. "Oh look at you." She smiled with approval.

Mother then turned to me.

"Denise from the Ledger says you're going to be number one this week." She announced, and then waved her hand around. "And look, everyone is buying your book."

I had noticed that people were lining up to buy _Storm Fall_ and that was pleasing to see.

"Now, don't you feel silly for believing all those reviews?" She added.

"Yes, yes I do." I said quietly. I caught sight of Beckett grinning at me, amused at what my mother was telling me.

"Let's just hope Nikki Heat does as well." Mother said.

The smile vanished from Beckett's face. She shot me a glare.

"Nikki Heat?" She said loudly.

Mother turned to look at her and smiled. "The character he's basing on you."

"Nikki Heat?" Beckett repeated as she levelled her death glare at me.

"Uh-oh." Mother managed to squeak out, suddenly realising she had put me right in it.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Beckett said as she pulled me away.

I saw Alexis move to join us but was pulled back by Mother.

"What kind of name is Nikki Heat." Beckett demanded once we were by ourselves.

"It's a cop name." I said.

"It's a stripper name." Beckett seethed.

"Well, I told you she was kind of slutty." I quipped.

"Change it, Castle."

Beckett moved dangerously towards me and I started backing away.

"Hang on a sec...think of the titles." I offered. "Summer Heat. Heat Wave. In Heat."

Beckett's face darkened as she took another step towards me. I took another step back.

"Change the name."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

We were moving around a table that had a pyramid of my latest book. I grabbed hold of the large cardboard cut out picture of me and held it in front of the approaching and angry looking Detective Beckett.

"Change it." She demanded.

"No."

"Castle!"

"I have artistic integrity, Beckett."

"Artistic integrity? Change the name, Castle. Today."

"if I cave now, what next?" I volleyed back. "What more demands would you demand?"

"Change it!"

I made a sudden dash for the bookshelves but Beckett was right on my heels. I dodged and weaved but she was right there. I now could understand how criminals felt. Beckett cornered me. There was a look in her eyes that made me quake because I thought she was going to hurt me for real. Thankfully no bodily harm on my person was made because Mother managed to find us and intervened, chiding us for behaving like little children. I must say that despite the momentary fear I experienced I found it kind of fun being chased by a hot woman in a short hot pink sleeveless dress.

Mother played the role of peace maker and allowed cooler heads to prevail. Beckett and I agreed to disagree on the character's name. The look Beckett gave me told me that this particular matter was not over.

Needless to say that night and for many, many nights after that, Beckett and that short hot pink sleeveless dress which accentuated her long, shapely, sexy legs featured very prominently in my dreams.

XXXXX

_**There you have it, the end of another case. What did you think of this effort?**_

_**Con **_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The Case of A Chill Goes Through Her Veins

Part 1

This was the case in which I learned something about Detective Beckett. Something deeply personal. Something from her past. The cause behind that sad look that haunted her hazel green eyes. The reason why she had chosen to become a detective. That she trusted me enough to reveal it to me was like a most precious gift.

Early in the morning I was awoken from slumbers by a call from the dispatcher at the 12th Precinct informing me that a body had been found at construction site and was I interested. Was I interested? Do fish swim in the sea? Do bears sh...I think you get the point. I was interested. Very interested. I managed to scribbled down the address of the location before jumping out of bed and not long after I was racing out of the loft in search of a cab. Thankfully the location was not too far away. And thankfully I managed to hail down a cab and set off to the murder scene.

The location of where the body was found was a construction site, an office building or something that was going up. I got there to find some uniforms marshalling the construction workers away from the entrance to the building. A uniform guarding the entrance recognised me and allowed me through.

Inside the building there were a few more construction workers congregating close to where the body had been found. I was rather surprised to find that only Dr Lanie Parish was on the scene. There was no sign of Beckett nor of Ryan and Esposito. I couldn't believe that I had beaten them to the scene. This was something I was going to have some fun with at some later stage, I thought to myself.

Walking closer to where the body was I saw that it was tangled amongst a series of bars, the kind of iron bars that are used at construction sites to strengthen concrete when it's poured. There was a ripped garment bag hanging off some of the bars. Lanie was hovering close to the body examining it and making notes on her clipboard. She returned my friendly greeting with a brusque 'morning' and then returned to examining the body.

As I looked up studying the body there was something strange about it. Then it hit me. The body of woman looked frozen. Suddenly I had a number of questions to ask of Lanie but she told me that she was rather busy at the moment and couldn't answer any of my questions at the moment.

So I stood there watching Lanie going about her work and wondering how the body had been frozen and how it got here. Also I could not help but wonder who the woman was.

Esposito and Ryan finally made their appearance. They were most surprised to find me all ready here. I could not help myself but I cracked a few jokes at their expense. They took it well and came back with some wisecracks of their own about my eagerness. Ryan remarked that there were some ambulance chasing lawyers who showed more restraint.

I asked about Beckett's whereabouts and was told my Esposito that she was on her way. Ryan moved over to have a talk with the construction workers who were standing close by and who had found the body. Esposito left the building saying he wanted to get some coffee. I remembered that in my haste to leave the loft I had not even stopped for a coffee. Esposito had gone before I could ask him to get me a coffee.

Left to my own devices I walked around to see if I could spot anything of interest. It was your usual construction site, there were building materials stacked about, and building equipment, mobile lifts and that sort of thing but I was not able to find anything that could be labelled as a clue. I turned and headed out.

There was a crowd of construction workers standing around the entrance of the building. I pushed my way through and saw in the distance Detective Beckett emerge from her Crown Victoria. She gave the surrounding scene a quick survey and in the space of a moment she was all business, all homicide cop. I started to make my way to her.

Beckett strode through the front gates and was met by Esposito who was holding two cups of coffee. He handed her one of the cups and she gave him a grateful nod of thanks. She took a sip of the coffee as they walked towards the building. A couple of uniforms were ordering the construction workers to move back and leave the area clear. The workers began to comply.

"Why can't they find bodies between 9 and 5?" Esposito asked.

"Well the early bird gets the collar." Beckett replied, taking another sip of her coffee.

As the workers cleared the entrance Beckett caught sight of me approaching. A look of surprise rose to her face. She slid a glance in Esposito's direction.

"He was here before I was." Esposito shrugged.

I rushed up to Beckett with a smile on my face.

"You're here, Finally." I said eagerly. "You're going to love this."

In my eagerness to get her to see what was inside I reached out and grabbed hold of her arm and practically dragged her with me. As she walked with me Beckett managed to shrug off my hand but I did not mind that.

Inside the building I saw that Ryan and a couple of uniforms had pushed the construction workers back, telling them that this was an active crime scene. He sounded a little annoyed that they were not obeying immediately. But they did, eventually.

I reached the edge of the pit and Beckett joined me. We looked up to where the body was caught in the crossbars.

"Awesome, right?" I said excitedly looking over to Beckett. "My first cold case."

Beckett levelled an unimpressed look in my direction.

"Oh come on, It's a little funny." I said.

You think I would not make a joke about finding a frozen body? It was an opportunity too good to ignore.

"Not so much funny as true." Lanie called down from her position beside the body. "She's frozen solid."

Beckett frowned at that piece of news.

"What was the temperature last night?" She asked.

"Mid 40's." Ryan informed her, having joined our group after clearing the scene of the construction workers. Beckett nodded her head and then looked up again studying the body.

"It wasn't exposure." Lanie said.

"The site is active. The boys tell me there's no way she was here last night." Esposito reported.

Beckett climbed up on one of the crossbars to get a little closer look at the body.

"She's melting." Beckett said.

"Maybe we should be looking for ruby slippers?" I suggested.

Beckett turned to look at me. "Yeah, while you're at it. Why don't you look for some flying monkeys. Maybe they left her here." She retorted. Then she looked up at Lanie.

"So what you got for me?" She asked the medical examiner.

Lanie did not have much for Beckett at that moment. There were pieces of plastic on the body from the garment bag. The medical examiner agreed with Beckett's summation that the body had been in the garment bag. Lanie added that she had nothing further to report at the moment, they would have to wait until the body thawed. However, Lanie did mention that the body had not been there long, maybe a couple of hours.

Beckett nodded her head at the medical examiner. She stepped down from the crossbar and turned to look at Esposito.

"What about security?"

"Chain link." Esposito reported. "A pair of bolt cutters took care of that."

"Looks like our guy was hoping she'd disappear into the concrete pour." Ryan added.

"A few more feet and she would have." Esposito agreed.

I had been studying the body and thinking. I slowly turned to face the detectives.

"It's kind of odd, taking the trouble to freeze a body and then dumping it." I mused. "We got two personality types working here."

I could see that I had their attention and continued my thoughts.

"A killer who freezes a body is a keeper." I said. "He wants a souvenir. But a guy who dumps a body..."

"Doesn't want to be reminded of the crime." Beckett said, finishing the sentence.

Beckett informed her partners that she was going to check out the fence, leaving unsaid but understood that Esposito and Ryan were to take care of things here and interview the construction crew. I fell into step beside Beckett as we headed for the exit. Beckett saw a CSU tech with a camera walking towards her.

"Get a close up of her face. I want to run her through missing persons." She told the CSU tech. The man nodded his head and continued walking.

"Oh cool." I said excitedly. "Like on the Discovery Channel, where you plug the photo into a facial recognition database?"

Beckett cast a knowing look in my direction.

"Yeah, just like that." she agreed blandly.

"Yes!" I said gleefully.

Beckett took a sip of her coffee as she and I inspected the fence where it had been cut. True enough the links had been severed by a pair of bolt cutters. Then Beckett spoke to a few construction workers who were standing close by watching the police going about their business. The workers could not provide much information as it turned out.

XXX

At the precinct Beckett sent me to the conference room telling me she was going to get something. While waiting for her I pulled out my note book and started making some notes about the latest case. Ten minutes later Beckett came walking into the conference room. I did not see her come in as I still busy making notes and writing up my observations from the crime scene. I heard her walk in. the way she walks in her high heels makes a distinctive sound.

I was startled out of what I was doing by crash of a very large stack of files landing on the table in front of me. Looking up I saw Beckett smirking down at me.

"Welcome to the Department's official facial recognition database." She announced as she sat down in the chair beside mine.

Detectives Ryan and Esposito came into the conference room carrying equally large stacks of files which they set on the table before they took their chairs across from me. I glanced at the files in front of me and then turned to look at Beckett.

"By hand?" I said unable to mask my surprise.

Beckett nodded her head.

"But that's like life before TiVo."

"Maybe you could download an app on that phone of yours." Esposito suggested sarcastically.

"Ha, ha, ha." I shot back.

My eyes returned to the very large pile of files in front of me and to the other files on the desk. I found it hard to wrap my head around the number of files. I could not help but be overwhelmed by the number of files that were sitting on the conference table.

"There are a lot of missing people." I remarked.

"One way or another, we eventually find them." Beckett said as she reached for a file. "Some end up dead, some turn up in a double-wide with a stripper named Trixie outside Atlantic City."

"And some just don't show up." Esposito added.

Esposito looked at the file he was holding in his hand and held it out in my direction. I took it from him and looked at the name on the file.

"Dana Sullivan." I said.

"She and her boyfriend leave a club." Esposito said, not needing to consult the file. I could see that he had it memorised, perhaps he had worked the case? "He's a couple of steps behind her because he gets a call on his cell phone. She turns the corner just a few seconds before he does. And when he comes around , she's gone. The street's totally empty. No traffic. No nothing. In a matter of three feet, she literally disappeared."

I found myself shaking my head. This was a story that did not make sense to me.

"People just don't disappear off the face of the earth." I said.

"Sure they do." Ryan spoke up as he perused the file he had opened. "Quantum physics, alien abductions, Schrödinger's cat. One minute you're getting a hot dog in the park, and then next you're fighting Sleestaks on the far side of the dimensional rift."

"I don't buy it." I retorted. "There's got to be an explanation. A story that makes it all make sense."

Beckett leaned back in her seat and looked at me.

"Okay, Castle." She said. "What's our Jane Does's story?"

"Well, I don't know how it starts, but I know how it ends. Frozen at a construction site. So," I paused and cast a glance at Beckett. "Flying monkeys aside," I detected a small smile tugging at the corners of Beckett's mouth. "What's the first question? How did she get there?"

"Considering she was frozen solid, she had to have been kept pretty close." Ryan suggested.

"Not necessarily." I replied.

I pushed back from my chair and pointed to the map of Manhattan. I motioned in the general direction of where the construction site was.

"Here is the site. Her body might not have been kept as close as you think. It takes a long time for a frozen body to thaw." I informed them as I settled back in the chair.

"What?" Ryan laughed. "You freeze a body for one of your books?"

"No. But I cooked a turkey for Thanksgiving." I said. "It was a twenty-eight pounder. It took all night to unfreeze."

"She's a person, Castle. Not a turkey." Beckett reminded me, needlessly I would hasten to add.

"Just making a point." I assured her.

Beckett's phone rang interrupting what I was going to add.

"Okay, I'm on my way." Beckett said and rang off. She got to her feet. "Lanie's got an ID."

Beckett started for the door. I waved a hand at the files on my side of the table and looked at the guys.

"You'll take care of these?" I said.

I did not wait for answer from the boys as I quickly rushed out of the conference room to catch up with Beckett. I only heard later that Esposito dumped the entire job of returning all the files from whence they came to Ryan as he too left the conference room.

XXX

Walking into the examination room Beckett and I found Lanie Parish standing by the table where the body of Jane Doe was laid out. We walked up to the table.

"Meet Melanie Cavanaugh." Lanie announced. "Thirty-four at the time of death. Turns out COD was blunt force trauma to her head."

Lanie pointed to the light box on the wall were the x-rays of Melanie's skull was on display. Beckett and I studied the x-rays for a few moments. The cracks to Melanie's skull were very noticeable. I did not need to have a medical degree to know that a blow of such force to cause so much damage to the skull would result in almost instant death. Beckett was the first to turn away and look to the medical examiner.

"How'd you get her ID?"

"Her prints were in the system."

"For?"

"Misdemeanor drug possession." Lanie said.

Having finished studying the x-ray I moved to look down at the body while I listened to Lanie.

"She doesn't look like a junkie." I remarked.

"No. She's in pretty good shape, considering." Lanie said. "But judging the lack of frost and tissue degeneration, I'd say wherever she was stored the temperature rarely varied."

"Like a freezer." I suggested.

"A freezer would do the job." Lanie agreed.

"How long has she been dead?" Beckett asked.

"Well considering how long she's been like this, factoring decomposition. I'd say she probably was frozen within twenty four hours of being killed." Lanie reported.

Beckett looked up from her study of the body and gave the medical examiner a questioning look.

"What do you mean, 'how long she's been like this'?"

"According to the records I pulled," Lanie said, "this woman has been missing for five years."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was the very same expression that Beckett was sporting. Lanie had an amused knowing smile. I don't know what she was smiling about and I did not have the chance to query her about it. Beckett recovered from her surprise, thanked Lanie for the information and was striding out of the examination room. I was forced to run to catch up with her.

XXX

I emerged from the break room with a cup of coffee that I had made for myself. I found Beckett sitting at her desk holding open the Melanie Cavanaugh file. I sat down in my chair and set the cup on the desk.

"She had a troubled childhood, drug problems in her teens and twenties." Beckett remarked.

"I know." I replied.

Beckett looked up from the file. "How do you know?"

"I read the case file." I informed her. "She kicked the habit. Met and married Samuel Cavanaugh, she worked at a restaurant and he managed a bank. They have two kids."

Beckett looked at me with surprise. "When did you read the file?" She asked.

Suddenly Beckett reached out for the cup of coffee. I was going to tug it back but quickly realised if we had a small tug of war over the coffee most of it would get spilt on her and I know for certain that would not have been a good thing. So I let her have to coffee.

"I read it when you were in the little girl's room." I informed her.

"I was gone for only a minute!" Beckett exclaimed.

"Speed reader." I replied. "Something I picked up from my years stranded in the New York Public library."

Beckett took a sip of my coffee, or should I say her coffee, and turned her attention to the case file and started reading it.

"Would you like the Cliff Notes, or in this case the Castle notes?" I suggested with a grin.

"Castle, how do you know you didn't miss anything important?"

"Like, after Melanie disappeared, her husband waited a day before he called the cops?" I offered.

Beckett frowned. "A day? That doesn't make any sense."

"Until you get to paragraph three." I motioned. "Before Melanie was married, she is what is now referred to as a 'runaway bride'."

Beckett skimmed through the report to reach the passage I had pointed out. Her frown deepened a little more. As she was doing that I rose from my chair and came around the desk to stand beside her. I saw her stiffen at my sudden closeness but she was making an effort not to let it show.

"According to her husband, she ran away a whole two weeks before her wedding." Beckett read.

"And then she came back. Three years happily ever after, she disappears again." I said. "Then comes back. Lather-rinse-repeat three times. No indication of where she went."

"Well, she must have had a reason for running away."

"I'm not judging her." I said. "Some people like the institution, hate the day to day."

Without realising it I had moved closer to Beckett so that I could look over her shoulder to the case file.

"Are you one of those people, Castle?" Beckett said as she turned her head to look at me.

She was startled to find me just inches away from my face. Truth be told I was a little startled too but I think I covered the surprise better than she did. I grinned at her.

"I guess I just haven't met the right girl." I said in a low voice.

Beckett looked more than a little uncomfortable at finding me just inches away from her face. So close that I could have just leaned in and kissed her. Quickly she turned back to the file. I could have easily made some kind of joke at this little moment, perhaps teased her about it. There would have been a time where I would have gotten good mileage out of it. There would have been a time I would have stolen a kiss. But I didn't. I chose to let it go. What I did instead was to focus on the case.

As tempting as it was to steal a kiss from Beckett, I knew full well that for that moment of pleasure there would have been endless days of pain as I nursed the broken jaw she would have inflicted on me.

"So, that's why her husband didn't call the cops." I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Because she had done it before. Seemed reasonable to the detective at the time."

"There's no evidence of foul play, so the detective just closed the case." There was a note of anger in the way Beckett spoke. "Five years, and her husband thought she just ran away?"

"I guess, it's time to tell him his runaway bride has come home." I suggested.

XXX

It was a rather quiet ride to the last known address for Samuel Cavanaugh. Beckett was not in a good mood and had snapped at me a couple of times when I had ventured to make a joke or two. Quickly I took the hint and became silent. From time to time during the drive I looked over to her and wondered what was bothering her. She caught me gazing at her and she shot me one of her glares that had me turning my head and focusing my attention on the road ahead.

Reaching the front door of apartment 917 Beckett stepped up to the door and rapped hard on the door.

"Who is it?" A male voice called from within the apartment.

"New York Police Department." Beckett said loudly.

A moment later the door opened to reveal a short rotund bespectacled man aged in his late forties with black hair that was starting to recede.

"Can I help you?"

Beckett held up her badge.

"Detective Beckett." She announced. "Are you Samuel Cavanaugh?"

"Who?" the man said.

"Samuel Cavanaugh. Our records indicate that he lives here."

"You must have the wrong apartment."

"917?" Beckett said as she pointed to the the number on the front door.

"Yeah." The man said. "But I live here. And my name is Roger, it's not Sam."

"Do you know any Samuel Cavanaugh?" Beckett pressed.

"No, what's this about?" Roger asked, looking confused.

"How long have you lived here?" I quickly asked before Beckett could fire off another question.

"About eight months."

I turned to look at Beckett. "We'll it's been five years." I told her. "He could have moved."

"Hey, I hate to break it to you," Roger interjected.

Both Beckett and I turned to look at Roger.

"But if you're looking for the guy who lived here before me, he didn't move. He was murdered." Roger added.

Then Roger slammed the door in my face.

This case was full of unexpected surprises I was quickly discovering. First we learn that Melanie Cavanaugh had been dead for five years and now we discover that her husband Sam had been murdered.

Before we left the apartment building Beckett had called through to Esposito and ordered him to pull the Sam Cavanaugh case file. On the drive back to the precinct I was pleased to note that the undercurrent of anger had gone from Beckett's disposition and she even laughed at a couple of my jokes. For the other ones I made all I got in response was the Beckett eye roll. I didn't mind.

XXX

On our return to the precinct Beckett went to her desk and did some paperwork. I kept her company.

Esposito and Ryan appeared and approached the desk.

"Hey Beckett." Esposito called out.

"Yeah?" Beckett looked up.

"Samuel Cavanaugh. Shot outside a grocery store about a year ago." Esposito reported. "Small calibre, double tap to the chest. Wallet and valuables missing."

"Poor schlub's wife disappears. Four years later, he gets shot in a mugging." Ryan added.

"Yeah, what are the odds?" Esposito added.

"Long." I said. "Unless they're connected."

"Four years between murders?" Esposito questioned. "One's a popsicle and , one just got popped? How could they possibly be connected?"

"Maybe he and his wife got into something they couldn't get out of." I continued. "Maybe something to do with the drug habit."

"So, some skell waits four years to finish the job?" Ryan said sceptically.

"Maybe he finally figured out what happened to his wife and was about to go the police with it." I suggested.

"I don't believe it." Ryan shook his head.

I grinned at the Irishman. "Give me 250 pages, I bet I could make you."

"We're solving a murder, Castle not writing a book." Beckett chided.

"I could call it, _'A Chill Runs Through Her Veins'_" I smiled at her.

I have to admit I rather did like the title.

"Ooh, I like that." Esposito said.

"'Bam' said the lady, another best seller for me." I announced proudly, still smiling.

Beckett seem not too impressed with that. She looked up at Esposito.

"What happened to the kids?" She asked him.

"Living with Melanie's parents up in White Plains." Was the reply.

"Looks like I'm going to White Plains." Beckett announced as she got to her feet. She picked up her coat and started putting it on. She looked at Esposito. "Canvas the construction site, someone must have seen something."

"Yeah the foreman said that they have a problem with the homeless at night." Esposito replied. "So, I figured I'd go down there later, try to catch them at the site."

I was on my feet.

"Hmmm, Homeless, White Plains, homeless, White Plains." I murmured.

"They're both kind of creepy." Esposito said.

As wonderful company Detective Esposito is, and I'm sure interviewing construction workers and homeless guys sounds very interesting. Both Beckett and Esposito looked at me as I made my decision. There was no choice really. I pointed to Beckett. Beckett allowed a small smile to rise to her lips as she turned and started walking for the elevator. I quickly fell into step beside her.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts on this latest effort would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The Case of A Chill Goes Through Her Veins

Part 2

Beckett drew the car to the kerb opposite a nice well maintained suburban house. There was a wide expanse of lawn and beds of flowers lined against the sides of the house. This was a house whose owner went to some lengths to try and keep it presentable all the time.

Beckett got out of the car and I did the same. I saw her checking her note book to see if we had the right address. Satisfied that we had found the right house Beckett put away the note book. We started walking towards the house. After only taking a few steps we both stopped.

From around the side of the house came two little girls running. One was aged eight and the other six. They were screaming and squealing as they ran. Behind them came a limping man aged in his late fifties to early sixties with grey hair. He let out a roar as he chased after the squealing little girls. He moved slowly aided by a walking stick.

Beckett glanced to me and found that I was smiling at the scene in front of us. I can't tell you the number of times I had played similar games with Alexis when she was young, chasing her all over the loft pretending to be some monster or dinosaur.

"Mr Davidson?" Beckett called out.

Ben Davidson stopped chasing his grandchildren and looked around to find us standing there.

"Yes, mam, that's me." Davidson said, with a look of curiosity on his face.

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett." Beckett held up her badge for Davidson to see. "Is there somewhere we could talk?"

"Yes. Why don't we go inside." Davidson said. He looked down at his grand daughters. "Girls , don't play in the street, okay? Grandpa will be out in a minute."

The two little girls nodded their heads. Davidson motioned us to his front door.

The Davidsons took the news that their missing daughter had finally been found dead with stoicism. Their worst fears having been realised. There weren't too many tears shed. Perhaps they had been shed years before.

Bruce and Julie Davidson sat on the couch when they were ready to answer a few questions.

"I...I think we've both known for a while now that Melanie was not going to come home." Julie Davidson told us.

"What do you remember about the days leading up to her disappearance?" Beckett asked.

"Well, we talked to her a couple of days before. My wife did, I mean." Davidson said, nodding to his wife.

"Everything seemed fine." His wife added.

"She didn't indicate in any way that she was leaving?" Beckett said.

"No." Julie Davidson said.

"We're aware your daughter had some issues." I said delicately.

Davidson frowned at me. "They had nothing to do with what happened here."

"How do you know?" I questioned.

Ben Davidson gave me an angry scowl.

"You know, now you sound like the cop who first had the case." Davidson said, his anger rising. "Convinced she'd runaway, convinced she was till on drugs..."

"But you didn't think that." Beckett said placatingly.

"Melanie was not the greatest of moms," Davidson said cooling down a little. "But she loved her kids. She would never have left them."

"What about her husband?" Beckett asked.

"He thought it was drugs too." Julie Davidson informed us.

"You know he waited over a day before he reported her missing?" Davidson said, the anger returning.

"She had runaway before." I pointed out.

Ben Davidson fixed me with an angry look again. He said he was not going to sit there and deny that his daughter had runaway. His daughter was not an angel. If his son-in-law thought that Melanie was in trouble, why did he not report her missing right away, he questioned. Why didn't he call for help? Even if Melanie had been locked up as a result of it, she would have been better. Davidson paused. The anger drained from him and he seemed to deflate. What did it matter now he told us. The time to be asking the questions Beckett and I were asking was five years ago but the cop who was on the case seemed not to want to ask them.

Beckett rose to her feet signalling the end of the interview. I quickly got up as well. Beckett thanked the Davidsons for their time.

Beckett had a frown on her face as we walked back to her car.

"Sounds like they were pretty unhappy with the original investigation." I observed.

"Yeah, well from where I stand, they have every reason to be." Beckett said tersely.

"The guy whose case it was, you know him?"

"No." Beckett shook her head. "Detective Sloan was before my time."

"He still around?"

Beckett gave me a humourless smile. "Well, if you count being a sheriff in Jesery, then yeah, he's still around."

Once I got settled in the car, I did not need to ask where we were going next. I already knew. A certain sheriff in Jersey was about to be paid a visit by Detective Beckett.

XXX

The diner where we met Sheriff Sloan was your typical diner that could be found on most highways. There was a rustic feel to the place with red brick walls and thick wooden beams. The tables and benches too were made of solid wood rather the usual formica. Suspended from some of the walls and columns were pot plants adding a splash of colour to overall dark colour scheme. It seemed to be a slow night with only a few long distance truckers seated at the counter enjoying a late meal or early breakfast. There were one or two people seated at the tables keeping pretty much to themselves.

Former Detective Clay Sloan and now Sheriff Sloan was seated at a table across from Beckett and me. He was a man in his early sixties, silver haired clean shaven with a growing paunch. His dark green uniform sported a large shinning multi pointed sheriff's badge on his chest and the collar tabs gleamed with insignia denoting his rank. There was also a row of ribbons across the left side of his shirt. He was focused on the coffee mug sitting on the table between his hands.

Beckett had her folio opened that contained Melanie's file. We each had a cup of coffee which we had not touched. That Beckett had left her coffee untouched told me that she was talking this interview a little more seriously that usual.

"Melanie Cavanaugh." Sloan said as he lifted his head, a trace of a sad smile on his face. "So, she was finally found after all these years, huh?"

"She wasn't found." Beckett said tersely. "Her body was."

The trace of a smile faded from Sloan's face. "Sorry to hear that." He said. "From the moment I took the case, I figured it was going to end bad."

"Her parents led us to believe that you were pretty sure that she'd run off." Beckett accused.

"Her being found dead and her running off aren't exactly incompatible. Not with her history." Sloan replied.

"Her parents also believe your investigation never made it past her history." I told him.

"I was on a missing persons, not a murder." Sloan tried not to sound irritated. "You have a dead body. All I had was a woman with a drug history and a history of disappearing."

"And a husband who didn't report her missing for over a day." Beckett added in an accusatory tone of voice.

Sloan looked at Beckett and glared at her.

"Don't you play Monday morning quarter back with me." He said angrily. "Look, sweetheart, he cooperated. He voluntarily allowed CSU into their apartment. Anything I asked, he did."

I felt Beckett stiffen beside me when Sloan called her 'sweetheart'. She bristled with barely controlled anger. The anger seemed to almost radiate off her. I would imagine throughout her career she would have been called 'sweetheart' by older cops more as a put down than any kind of endearment and she was not about to take it from a retired NYPD detective. Instinctively I placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"Did you know he was murdered too?" I said, jumping in before Beckett could say anything.

Sloan looked startled by the piece of news. He shook his head slowly. He had not heard that Sam Cavanaugh had been killed.  
"Gunned down on the street over a year ago." Beckett added.

"Look, what do you want from me?" Sloan said as he looked from Beckett to me and back to Beckett. "We had reports of her in Philly with a meth head ex-boyfriend. I mean it was what it was."

"But you didn't even go down to check it out." Beckett said. I could tell she was trying hard to restrain her anger.

"Didn't need to. Had reports." Sloan said dismissively.

"Right." Beckett said. She glanced down to consult the file in front of her. She looked up. "From her husband's best friend, Charles Wyler."

"So?" Sloan wondered where this was going.

"He's not exactly an impartial observer." I pointed out.

I could well understand Beckett's anger towards this guy. I didn't like him much either. He seemed like someone who was averse to hard work.

"The guy owned his own business. He had a family. He was a war vet." Sloan stated. "I saw no reason to doubt his word."

"Plus, Philly's a pretty long drive." I said, trying not to sound sarcastic and failing a little.

"She was only missing back then." Sloan claimed.

Beckett leaned over the table towards the sheriff fixing him with an angry glare.

"No, sheriff. She was already dead. You just didn't know it yet."

Beckett closed her folio as she rose to her feet and stormed out of the dinner. I rose slowly. Sloan tried to justify what he did back then, repeating to me that he thought he was only investigating a missing persons case and not a murder. I was not in the mood to dispense absolution. I gave him a small nod of the head and headed out of the diner.

It was a seething, angry, silent Detective Beckett who I sat across in the car as we drove back to the city. I picked up the file and was slowly leafing through it. After a few miles of oppressive silence I found it got too much for me so I had to say something to lighten the mood in the car.

"If I ever disappear, make sure this guy's not on the case." I remarked.

For a couple of minutes Beckett did not respond, preferring to focus her attention on the road ahead. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"I hate cops like that." Beckett suddenly hissed angrily, breaking the silence. "Guys like him, things only make sense if they fit it in a box."

I closed the file I was going through and turned my head to look at her.

"So they make them fit, and murderers go free." She added.

I had seen Beckett angry a few times. Most of those times the anger was a result of some action of mine. Other times it was because she was angry at suspects or a lying witness or two, or three. This time it was different. This time it was a deep seated anger. My first thought it was due to Sloan calling her sweetheart but then I discarded that thought. No, this display was personal. I caught sight of the large man's watch on her wrist. It was a watch that she woren all the time, and there had a few times I wondered what the story was.

"That what happened to your Dad?" I asked in a gentle tone.

"My Dad?" Beckett said with a look of surprise.

I nodded my head. "I noticed your watch." I explained.

Beckett looked at her watch and then back at me.

"It's your Dad's, right? That's why you wear it?"

I saw the hesitant look appear on her face before she turned her attention back to the road ahead. I continued to watch her. There was an uncertainty about her as she opened her mouth to say something only to close it immediately. When her phone started ringing she looked relieved as she answered the call. Relieved that she did not have to provide an answer to the question I had posed.

If Beckett did not want to answer that was fine, I would not push her to get the story. I could and would respect her wishes. However, I did feel deeply for her loss. I could not even begin to imagine what it must have been like for her.

Beckett rang off and informed me that Esposito and Ryan had found something.

XXX

We arrived out the front of an old printing warehouse that had been remodelled and converted into a multi storey storage facility. I am pleased to report that by the time we had arrived here Beckett's anger had dissipated. Emerging from the car Beckett was back in cop mode. I could not help but notice that this place was not too far from the river if the smell was anything to go by. We strode through the open wire gate and over to where Esposito and Ryan were standing, beside a large yellow truck.

"You find a witness?" Beckett asked on reaching Esposito.

"Yeah, a homeless guy." Esposito said. "A couple of bucks jogged his memory."

"Said he saw a dented yellow truck pull up to the site." Ryan continued. "Heavy-set guy pulls out a large bag out of the back. When he comes back out, he doesn't have the bag any more."

Beckett nodded her head and looked at the truck.

"How'd you find this place?" She asked.

"Guy also remembered the word 'storage' written on the side of the truck." Esposito informed her, pointing to the side of the truck.

"We searched all the storage places on the West Side, and found out that this one uses yellow trucks." Ryan added.

"So, who owns the trucks?" she asked.

Ryan consulted his notepad.

"According to DMV, Albert Bolland."

Beckett told the boys that they had done a good job locating the storage facility. She announced that she could take it from her and sent them home for the night. Esposito and Ryan did not argue, they were happy to leave.

For an ever so brief nano second I almost envied the guys being allowed to leave. It was getting late in the evening. As I said it was only for a nano second. I was not about to leave Beckett on her own. I know Beckett would have said she could handle speaking to this Bolland guy on her own but it didn't sit right with me. The other reason I chose to remain by her side was I wanted to hear what this Bolland guy had to say for himself.

Albert Bolland was a heavy set man aged in his early forties with a decidedly nervous disposition which only intensified the moment Beckett showed him her badge. We were standing in his ramshackle looking office that was in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and some new furniture. He had been working back and was surprised by our appearance. Guilt was written all over his face if the sheen of sweat on his brow was anything to go by. Beckett saw it too and decided to throw him a fast ball.

"Why did you dump the body?"

"What body?" Bolland said exclaimed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"A witness saw someone driving one of your yellow trucks and dumping the body." Beckett informed him.

"You're lying." Bolland said angrily. "No one saw."

"Ouch. Wow." I said, trying not to laugh. "Maybe you should have tried denying it first."

"Let me help you." Beckett pressed. "Melanie Cavanaugh, mother of two. Wife of Sam Cavanaugh."

Bolland looked from Beckett to me and then back to Beckett. He knew that he had been caught out .

"Okay, look." Bolland sighed. "I dumped her. But I swear I didn't..."

"You didn't kill her, right?" Beckett interjected.

"That's right. I found her." Bolland said quickly.

"Uh-huh."

Beckett could not keep the scepticism from her face as she stared at Bolland.

"I never even knew she was here." The owner of the storage facility insisted.

"What do you mean 'here'?" I asked.

Bolland informed us that 'here' meant here on the sixth floor. The renters were in arrears and usually if they're in arrears for three months he would cut the locks and then sell whatever is found. Only this time, all he found was a freezer plugged into a light outlet. An illegal act, he added needlessly.

"You didn't think it was illegal to store a dead body in freezer?" Beckett said angrily.

"You think I knew?" Bolland exclaimed. "When I opened it up, I nearly had a heart attack."

"You could have called the cops." Beckett suggested, anger still brimming near the surface.

"So I could make the front page of the Ledger? Yeah, that's good for business." Bollaand shook his head. "What if it's a mob hit? I mean, I got a family."

"So did she." Beckett retorted.

Albert Bolland's snivelling and self justification for his actions was doing nothing to endear me to him. I could see that he was stoking Beckett's anger. So I stepped in, so to speak.

"So, you find her." I said. "Next logical step, dump her at a construction site?"

Bolland turned to me, almost looking grateful. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I know a guy who works over there." He explained. "So, when I find the body, I figure that's the place, right?"

"So, show us where you found her." Beckett demanded.

One glare from Beckett and Bolland was only too happy escort us up to the sixth floor to the storage unit where he had found Melanie's body.

Riding on the elevator Beckett did not say a word to Bolland. She merely glared at him forcing the frightened looking man to look away. Reaching the sixth floor the doors of the elevator had barely slid open before Bolland jumped out and scurried down the corridor to the storage unit. He pulled out a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The keys jingled and rattled as he searched for the key to the lock. Finding the right one he made several attempts before he was able to slot it into the lock. You could say he was a little nervous. Eventually he opened the door and stood aside.

Beckett pulled out a flashlight from her coat pocket and switched it on. She shined the light into the storage unit. It was empty except for the large freezer at the far end of the unit. We walked into the unit, Beckett leading as per usual. She reached the freezer and lifted up the lid. She shone the torch into the freezer. I could see bits of Melanie's hair stuck on the sides.

"Five years in there. Nobody deserves that." Beckett said sadly. She lifted her head and looked to the doorway where Bolland was standing.

"How did they make payments for the unit? Check? Credit card?"

"Cash, every six months." Bolland informed her. "But like I said, they were three months overdue."

Beckett turned her head to look at me.

"Puts the last payment at two months after husband was killed."

"Hard to make payments when you're dead." I suggested.

Beckett nodded her head as she looked down into the freezer for a moment. She looked at the owner of the storage facility.

"That camera in your office, you got footage of the guy who made the payments?"

"That was nine months ago." Bolland shrugged. "We keep maybe two weeks at a time."

A frown settled on Beckett's face as she looked away from Bolland over to me again.

"Looks like Sloan was right. Sam Cavanaugh didn't have anything to do with it." She said.

It sure looked that way but then I voiced the question that was in my head.

"Well, if not Sam, then who?"

I got home very late to find the loft quiet and in darkness. Both Mother and Alexis had gone to bed. There were some left overs waiting for me which I merely picked at. Sleep came slowly because the question of who had killed Melanie Cavanaugh kept going around in my head.

XXX

The following morning I found myself in the kitchen staring into the freezer. I was pondering more questions about the case and finding no answers to those questions. Having come in very late last night I would have preferred a few more hours of sleep but a call from Beckett had me climbing out of bed and getting ready to face another day. While waiting for her arrival I was doing more thinking about the case. And staring into the freezer.

I heard Alexis walk into the kitchen but I did not turn around to greet her. I was so lost in thought. Untroubled by my behaviour, Alexis reached into the freezer and took out a carton of orange juice. She was well used to seeing me deep in thought over one thing or another.

"You know we have airconditioning." Alexis remarked.

"I'm just trying to figure out why someone would put a dead body in a freezer." I replied absently.

Alexis poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Is this a Nikki Heat or Detective Beckett question?" She asked.

"Beckett."

"That's right." Alexis replied as she put away the carton back in the freezer. "The Nikki Heat thing was about incinerating a body in a self cleaning oven."

I reached into the freeze and took out a plastic container that held leftovers. I studied it for a moment wondering how long it had been in the freezer and what was in the container.

"I mean, you put things in a freezer to keep them for later." I said as I returned the container to its spot in the freezer. "But once they're there, you rarely ever go back."

"If I was putting a body in a freezer it'd be because I was trying to hide it."

"Until you stop paying for the storage space." I said.

"Did I stop, or did someone stop me?" Alexis questioned.

That was something I had not considered. A smile stole across my face as I looked at my daughter. I could not help but feel proud of her. There had been more than a few times over the past few years when I got stuck with something in the book I was writing, I would bounce ideas or thoughts off her and she would come up with something that I had not thought and which helped me continue with my writing.

"It's family moments like these I will never forget." I said, smiling.

"With a good therapist, hopefully, I will." Alexis retorted as she grabbed her glass of orange juice and left the kitchen.

XXX

I was standing outside my apartment building when Beckett swung by and picked me up. Not long after we pulled up out the front of an antique shop owned by Charles Wyler, Sam Cavanaugh's best friend. Beckett wanted to ask a few follow up questions that Sloan had never bothered asking.

Walking into the shop I took note of the antiques that there on display, there were a few items that were interesting, there was an old writing desk that drew my attention but not enough to have me reaching for my credit card.

Charles Wyler was a tall man, aged in his mid to late forties, tall with a bald head and physique that owed itself to at least a couple of days at the gym per week. He was well dressed that showed to me that the antiques business was a profitable trade.

He had greeted us with a warm welcoming smiling thinking Beckett and I were a couple on an antique shopping expedition. The smile faded from his face when Beckett showed him her badge and told him she had a few questions about Melanie Cavanaugh.

"Mr Wyler, the detective investigating Melanie's disappearance said that you told him that she went to an ex-boyfriend in Philadelphia." Beckett said.

Wyler nodded his head. "I only told him what Sam had told me."

"Sam told you?" Beckett said with some surprise.

"It's where she went before the wedding and a few times after."

"But you're not sure that's where she went."

Wyler shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Beckett. He told her that Melanie going to see her ex-boyfriend was the only thing that made sense. He insisted that Melanie was a good person but she was troubled. Sometimes when things got hard she would go out and score and then come home high, she would accuse Sam of ruining her life. But Sam had given Melanie everything.

"Do you remember the name of the boyfriend?" Beckett asked.

"Kevin Henson." Wyler replied quickly. He let out a snort before he spoke again. "If something happened to Melanie, he's the one who would know what."

XXX

Leaving Wyler's antique shop Beckett and I headed to the precinct where Beckett set about getting information on the boyfriend Kevin Henson. It did not take all that long for a reasonably thick file to find itself on Beckett's desk. Going through the file made for some interesting reading.

Beckett caught sight of Captain Montgomery walking along the hallway. She grabbed the file and rose from her desk and caught up with him. I followed closely behind.

Beckett brief the captain on the case so far. Then she passed him a mug shot of Henson.

"Kevin Henson, Melanie's ex-boyfriend." Beckett informed him as Montgomery studied the photo he had been given. "He's serving a year for meth in South Jersey. He went in just after the last payment was made on the storage unit."

"He stops payment, storage guy finds her body." I added.

"Quite a coincidence." Captain Montgomery scoffed.

"And he was also on the outside when her husband was whacked." Beckett said.

Captain Montgomery lifted his eyes from studying the mug shot and looked at Beckett.

"Sounds like he's worth a trip to South Jersey." Montgomery said as he handed Beckett the mug shot.

Beckett thanked the captain for authorising a trip out to South Jersey. As for me? Cool, I thought to myself, a field trip. I tried to contain my excitement but failed miserably. Beckett did not share my excitement, she just shook her head and rolled her eyes at my carrying on.

XXXXX


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The Case of A Chill Goes Through Her Veins

Part 3

The trip out to the jail in South Jersey where Kevin Henson was currently residing was a long one. It did not take me long to be bored by the music station Beckett had on. I reached out and changed the station only to have Beckett change it back, and she shot me a glare when she did it, a silent warning to me not to change the station. The warning must have flown right over my head because my hand was reaching to change the station again. Beckett changed it back. I changed it again.

This constant changing and changing back of radio stations went on for about ten minutes, perhaps a little more until Beckett, an irritated looking Beckett, drew the proverbial line in the sand by telling me in no uncertain terms, if I touched the radio one more time she would definitely shoot me. Not wanting Beckett to have to clean out her Crown Victoria with what was left of me after she shot me, nor wanting her to have to complete the inevitable mountains of paperwork for discharging a police issued weapon within in the confines of a police car, I decided not to play with the radio again.

I then tried to engage her in a game of I Spy. It was something Alexis and I played on those long drives up to the Hamptons during the summer when she was young to keep the boredom at bay and help fill in the time. There was a moment when I thought she was going to join in but my hopes had been raised needlessly because she shut me down with a Beckett Death Glare.

Then I engaged in a series of 'Are we there yet?' to which she responded with a very firm 'NO' every time I asked. This little exchange lasted for about five or so minutes until she barked an angry but very emphatic "Castle!" that silenced me instantly.

Well. as you can gather I was bored on this road trip. Unfortunately it is my lot in life to get bored easily and need to find ways of alleviating that boredom in any way I can. Irritating Detective Beckett seemed like a good idea at the time. Beckett was more than happy to show me the error of my way.

Thankfully no physical harm was inflicted on my person by one of New York's Finest. For the remainder of the trip Beckett and I discussed the case and then the topic of conversation turned to the book I was writing.

Beckett was still not happy with the name of the main character but her anger had cooled noticeably since that episode at the book store. I assured her that she would come to like the name of Nikki Heat. She shot me a look of disbelief but I told her that she had to trust me on that because I knew what I was talking about. She shot me another look of disbelief.

I have visited one or two prisons in my time—for research purposes I hasten to say, lest you get the wrong idea. They are definitely not fun places to visit and they are certainly not fun places if you have to live behind the walls. Some of the worst examples of society are here locked away and I for one am grateful for that.

I could not help but feel nervous as we went through the reception area. As we signed in I glanced over to Beckett and saw a confident looking woman, a confident cop, there was not a sign of nervousness. Some of my nerves faded on seeing her attitude.

We sat in a plain looking interview room. Thick steel bars covered the windows. A metal table stood in the middle of the room and three chairs. Beckett and I sat on one side of the table, the one facing the door and directly opposite us occupying the remaining chair was Kevin Henson.

He was a scruffy looking individual aged in his mid thirties, with a slender build, unshaven, with greasy looking hair. His prison issue green shirt was buttoned up to his neck and had the sleeves down. He had a sleepy look about him and he spoke slowly, in a raspy voice almost slurring his words.

Beckett had passed over a picture of Melanie Cavanaugh to him and he had spent a few minutes gazing at the picture, a sad wistful look on his face almost as if he was thinking of what might have been. He put the photo down and looked at Beckett.

"You ever been in love, Detective?" He asked quietly.

Beckett did not answer his question nor did she react to it, she just waited for him to continue.

"It makes you do crazy things." Henson added, with a smile.

"Like kill someone?" Beckett suggested.

Henson regarded Beckett for a moment before he answered. He said he and Melanie when they were together it felt like time just stopped. But both of them knew, even from the first day, that it would never work out. Her parents were never going to let their little girl end up with a tatted-up addict. Henson paused for a moment and then spoke again, saying that sometimes, just sometimes when he and Melanie were alone together, sometimes they almost believed.

Star crossed lovers, an ever recurring theme through literature and life, I thought to myself. I felt a little sorry for the guy.

"She was going to leave Sam. That's why she came to see you." I said.

Henson looked at me and nodded his head.

"She found out that he was having an affair." He announced. "She thought he was gonna leave her and get custody of the kids, you know, 'cause of the drugs. She wanted me to go with her. Take the kids, just disappear."

Beckett and I exchanged a look of surprise. Beckett turned to face Henson.

"So, what did you do?" Beckett asked.

"Put her on a bus." Henson said simply.

"You sent her away?" I could not hide the look of surprise from my face.

Henson nodded his head several times.

"What she wanted, I couldn't give her." Henson told me, sadly. "Checked into rehab the next day. I thought if I could get clean...That's where I was when she disappeared. Time I got out, she was dead."

"How could you be sure she was dead?" Beckett questioned.

"She stopped calling." Henson replied as sadness covered his face. "If she was alive, she would have called."

You will be pleased to know that on the drive back to the city I did not irritate Beckett by changing the stations on her car radio, nor did I try to engage her in a game of 'I Spy', or for that matter I did not annoy her by asking her 'are we there yet.' On the drive back to the city we were discussing the case.

"An affair certainly explains a lot." I said. "Sam kills Melanie, or he and his lover kill Melanie together."

"Well, who kills Sam?" Beckett asked.

"The lover." I replied. Beckett cast a glance at me. "When Sam backs out after all she's done for him. It's not like she can go to the police if he broke his promise."

"How do you come up with these things, Castle?" Beckett laughed.

"I did not come up with this one. They did." I insisted, ignoring her derisive laugh.

Beckett stared out at the road ahead and thought over what I had put forward. I could see her brow furrowing in that cute little way that I loved.

"Okay, okay." She said finally, glancing at me. "You speak 'guy'?"

I nodded my head. I speak it fluently.

"If Sam had a lover, would his best friend know about it?"

There was only one word answer I could give her, and I did.

"Yes."

There are some guys I've known who could not wait to tell me about their new lover. Usually it's to boast about how hot the woman is, or how great in bed she is, or merely to boast that he's got a lover and I didn't. Back in my younger days I too indulged in such things, especially when my picture appeared on page six of The Ledger. I couldn't wait to boast to my friends about the starlet or model hanging off my arm.

XXX

You can well imagine the look of surprise on Mr Wyler's face when he saw Beckett and I stroll into the storage area of his antique emporium. He was standing with a clipboard in his hand as he supervised the unloading some ornate desks from a truck.

As we approached him I was trying to keep the smile from my face. I had seen the look on Beckett's face as we had gotten out of the car I knew immediately that things did not bode well for Mr Charles Wyler. He was about to find out that it was not a very smart thing to lie to Detective Beckett.

Wyler saw us approaching and sure enough there was a look of surprise on his face. He moved away from the truck being unloaded and walked towards us.

"Detective." He said in greeting.

"You lied to us, Mr Wyler." Beckett said angrily.

Excuse me, but did Beckett just say 'us'? As much as I would have loved to dwell on the implications of what 'us' meant, there was no time for that.

Wyler was taken aback by the force of Beckett's accusation.

"Excuse me?" He stammered.

"You don't think maybe it's relevant that your buddy Sam had an affair about the time Melanie disappeared?" I told him.

Wyler looked at me and then to Beckett. A frown settled on his face. He could not understand all these questions.

"That was a long time ago." He said eventually. "And Melanie was murdered a long time ago. What's the point in dragging everyone through the mud? Haven't their kids been through enough? Don't they deserve some peace?"

Beckett took a step closer to Wyler. The Beckett Death Glare was on full. Wyler took a step back. For a moment I thought Wyler was going to turn tail and run.

"What they deserve is to know what happened to their mother!" Beckett said vehemently.

I have told you before that I've seen Beckett angry, really angry, not irritated angry. This was one of those times. Wyler could see how angry Beckett was. Weighing up his options he came to the realisation that it would be in his best interests, not to mention the safest option, to help the police.

"Forte, Elizabeth Forte is her name." Wyler announced, quietly. "She worked with Sam at the bank."

Beckett still seething, glared at Wyler, spun on her heels and marched out heading for her car. I gave Wyler a nod of the head and walked after Beckett.

XXX

Elizabeth Forte was a blonde woman, aged 40 according to her DVM file. She was dressed in a business suit. There was an impatient look on her face which turned into a small scowl the moment Beckett and I entered the interrogation room.

"Mrs Forte, I'm Detective Beckett and this is Rick Castle." Beckett announced as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table opposite Forte. I sat down beside Beckett.

"Why am I here?" Elizabeth asked.

"Does the name Samuel Cavanaugh ring a bell?"

"What about him?"

"We found the body of his wife, Melanie." Beckett informed her. "From the looks of it, she was killed somewhere around the time the two of you were having an affair."

Elizabeth Forte looked affronted at the suggestion.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Elizabeth said carefully.

"Do you really want me to start digging around in your life, Mrs Forte?" Beckett said. "Because that's exactly what I will do. I'll go through your old phone records, your credit card statements. I'll even talk to your husband if I have too."

The colour drained from Elizabeth's face at the mention of her husband.

"Please, please don't do that." She said hurriedly, the façade she had put on slipping. "Gary doesn't know anything about it."

"Just walk us through what you know." I said in a friendly, gentle tone.

Elizabeth regarded me a moment as if she was thinking about whether to tell us. Her eyes drew over to a stern looking Beckett.

"I met Sam when I got transferred to the down town branch." Elizabeth said slowly. "He was in new accounts. We were both pretty unhappy at the time."

"How long was this affair?" Beckett asked.

"Not long, six months."

"Why did it end?" I said.

"I realised that I loved my husband." Elizabeth said firmly.

I could not help but scoff at her last remark. Who was she trying to fool? I told her that no one ends an affair because they're still in love. They end an affair because they're scared. Scared of taking it to the next level, scared of being found out, scared of ruining their life.

"So, tell us. Elizabeth," I said as I stared at her. "What were you scared of?"

Suddenly Elizabeth looked decidedly uncomfortable. She did not want to speak but she knew that I had guessed that the affair had been ended because she had been scared. What Beckett and I wanted to know what she was scared of.

"Him. I was scared of Sam." Elizabeth confessed.

"Why?" Beckett asked.

"He started to ask me what I would do if he wasn't with his wife anymore, if she wasn't in the picture anymore."

"And when was that?"

"A few weeks before she disappeared." Elizabeth informed her. "When I found out she was missing, broke things off. He became angry. It got so bad that I had to transfer to another branch."

It was Beckett's turn to scoff at Elizabeth Forte for what she had said.

"I'm sorry." Beckett said shaking her head. "You had...five years, Mrs Forte. Five whole years and you never came forward."

"What's it matter if Sam killed Melanie?" Elizabeth retorted. "They're both dead. What's it matter anymore?"

Beckett and I had our story, we had our killer. Sam had killed his wife and then was killed in a mugging gone wrong a few years later. At least that is what I thought at the time. I certainly did not feel particularly happy how it ended. There was not that sense of satisfaction I felt when we actually had some one to charge with murder. From the look on Beckett's face she was not all that happy with it either.

With the case all but solved there was nothing more for me to do in the Precinct, unless you include watching Beckett do paperwork. Beckett was in no mood to have me sitting there just watching her so she sent me off home for the evening.

XXX

I have been asked many times what is my favourite game. There are many games that I love playing. For example I play a very mean game of Scrabble, I used to be unbeatable in Trivial Pursuit until people stopped playing with me because they could never win. Of course there are video games from my extensive collection. There are any number of games that I love playing and it all depends on what my mood is at time. However, one of my favourite games is playing laser tag with my daughter, Alexis.

We turn the entire loft in a laser tag battle ground and we chase each other all over the place shooting each other. It's a lot of fun. I got her started a few years ago and she took to the game like a duck to water. In the early years I would let her win from time to time until she figured out I was throwing a game here and there. What father would not do that for their kid, right? Well it lead to a bit of a fight which ended up with the Great Castle Challenge, the first to win one thousand games of laser tag would be crowned champion.

Not long after coming home from the precinct Alexis and I donned our laser tag gear and commenced to do battle. It was Alexis who had suggested we play laser tag, having seen my disposition on my return. At first I was not in the mood but she managed to convince me. I needed a bit of a distraction as a result of the unsatisfactory conclusion of the Melanie Cavanaugh case.

The living room was cloaked mostly in darkness with the main and secondary lights switched off, the only light being provided by one or two lamps. I was sneaking through the room and took cover behind a column when I heard some scurrying.

"Run rebel." I called out. "But you'll never defeat the forces of Voltar."

"Death to Voltar! Death to Voltarians!" Alexis cried out.

Many times when Alexis and I play laser tag we role play, creating intergalactic worlds, good guys and the baddies, letting our imagination run wild while we run amok.

"I sense fear in you." I said in my best baddie voice.

"Ha! You sense nothing!"

I moved from behind the cover of the column and started firing, Alexis jumped out of the line of fire ducking for cover. She rose up and returned fire forcing me to take cover again to avoid the laser fire. Amongst this epic battle that was taking place, mother chose that moment to stroll through.

"Has anyone seen my purse?" She called out, her face looking like some monster from a 50's B-grade horror flick. Okay, I might be exaggerating a little. She was wearing a facial mask.

With mother standing in the middle of the living room Alexis used that opportunity to rise from her hiding spot and take cover behind her grand mother.

"Mom." I whined. "We are totally doing battle on the field of honor."

Mother gave me an exasperated look, which was kind of funny considering the face mask she had on. "How old are you really?" She scolded.

"Old enough to afford top of the line laser tag." I beamed.

Alexis chose that moment to pop up behind from the protection of her grand mother and shot at me. The vest I wore with its flashing lights beeped and then the lights went out. I had been hit. So not cool.

"Ha!" My daughter shouted triumphantly. I looked at mother.

"I'm dead! Mom." I said unhappily. "Now Voltar will never rule the omniverse."

"Well..." Mother shrugged her shoulders in a manner that seemed to say 'these things happen'.

The doorbell started buzzing interrupting any further discussion about the mortal blow inflicted upon Voltar's most fearsome warrior. I lifted up the goggles I had been wearing and looked in the direction of the front door, Alexis and mother did the same.

"Did someone order food?" I asked.

Both Mother and Alexis said they didn't.

I pulled down my goggles and made my way to the door to find who was calling. I flung open the door and fired the laser gun at the person standing in the doorway. Detective Beckett was startled and slowly took in the laser tag gear I was wearing.

"Hi?" She said hesitantly.

"Hi." I replied. I would like to say that I sounded a little smoother but I would be lying to you. I was more than a little surprised to find Detective Beckett there before me. I stared at her, not knowing what to do. Alexis came up behind me to see who was at the door.

"Who is it?" She asked.

"Detective Beckett." I replied.

Then mother came up to stand beside me.

"Darling, are we entertaining?" Mother enquired of me.

There was this awkward pause that seemed to last nearly forever. Thankfully Alexis had some idea what to do. She nudged me in the back.

"Dad!"

"Yeah?"

"Manners." She whispered.

Sometimes I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for Alexis. I stepped aside and invited Beckett into my humble abode. Beckett smiled shyly as she walked into the living room. She had her back to us. I could tell she was taking in her surrounds. I did not need to see her face to know that she might have been awe struck at where she found herself. I've seen that look on a few people who are first time visitors to the loft.

Beckett turned to face us and smiled shyly. If she might have felt a little overawed by being in the loft she hid it well. Another nudge in the back from my darling daughter prompted me to make the introductions.

"You remember my mother, Martha and Alexis of course." I said.

"Yes, hello." Beckett said.

"Can I make you a drink?" I offered.

"No, thank you." Beckett replied. She looked hesitant as if wondering what she was doing here.

I could not help but wonder to what pleasure did I owe for her presence here in my home.

"Castle, can I talk to you, alone?" Beckett asked hesitantly.

I escorted Beckett in the direction of my office, allowing her to enter first. She moved into the office and took it all in, the bookshelves and all the objects that I had decorating the office.

"Wow. I feel like Alfred in the Batcave for the first time." Beckett remarked, still taking in the Castle inner sanctum. I started removing my laser tag gear.

"Mmm. Batman fan." I remarked. "It figures."

Beckett turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow. "Why?" She asked.

"Similar origin stories." I explained. "Loss of a loved one leads to a life of fighting crime."

"Yes, well." Beckett smiled. "You are the multi-millionaire crime fighter."

"Yeah." I grinned.

Beckett spotted my electronic smartboard standing in the corner. She stepped up to it. I had it switched on and it was displaying the storyboarding, and plot outlines of the new novel I was working on. I had been intending works some more on the new book before Alexis came and suggested we play laser tag.

"That's where I outline my books." I said.

"It's funny. Looks a lot like our murder board." Beckett remarked.

"Yeah, except, mine's fake."

Beckett turned away from my smartboard and looked across to where I was standing. The look of awe had gone and once more the uncertainty and hesitancy took residence on her face. She bit on her bottom lip in a way I had seen her do a few times when she was nervous. I did not need to be a mind reader to see there was something on her mind.

"Yeah." she sighed and moved moved away from the smartboard.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"I can't find it." Beckett announced suddenly.

That puzzled me. "Find what?"

"The answer."

I watched as Beckett moved over to my desk and rested against it. I suddenly understood what she meant.

"It was Sam." I told her. "Everything fits. It's a good ending."

The ending might have been good but I know for certain that if I was writing this story it would have been a far better story with a much better ending.

"Yeah, but without proof, it's just a theory." Beckett glanced at me for a moment before looking away. "And that family, those kids, they need more than just a theory. They need to know...I need to know."

Beckett said 'I need to know' with such vehemence that I realised that this was more than just the Melanie Cavanaugh case. I might have not been able to help her with that other matter that haunted her but I could still help her with Melanie's case.

"Well, you have an ending." I reminded her. "You want the rest, you need to work backwards."

Beckett had been staring into the distance but when I started speaking she turned her head to look at me.

"You need to finish the story. You have an ending." I said. "You have your killer. You just have to put it all together with the facts at hand."

"The facts?" Beckett frowned at me.

"Fact, they had two small children." I said.

"So?"

"Based on police statements, they didn't have a babysitter. With him at work, she would have had to have been with the kids they day she disappeared."

"But Sam said that she left later that night." Beckett pointed out.

"Which the doorman was never able to corroborate."

I was pleased to see that the look of hesitancy and uncertainty vanish from Beckett's face. There was now a thoughtful determined look.

"So, if she was there, and never left, then..."

"Then she was murdered in the apartment." I finished for her.

"Yeah." Beckett agreed.

I was buoyed to see the small smile on her lips.

"Another fact, he lived in Manhattan." I said.

"And like most people in the city, he didn't own a car." Beckett added.

"So, what is a good husband to do, living in Manhattan, with his wife's body?" I questioned. "He can't leave it in the apartment. He can't walk out the lobby with it. So the only question is..."

"How did he get the body to the storage unit?" Beckett said, finishing the question for me.

I had been pacing the floor as I had been speaking but now I had come to sit beside Beckett. We had been on a roll but suddenly had come to a grinding halt. How did Sam get the body from the apartment and to the storage unit. We umm'd and arrr'd for a few minutes as we thought about it. But nothing came to either of us. I was almost about to fall into despondency when I suddenly remembered something I usually did when I was stuck when writing.

"You know what helps?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes, when I'm trying to figure out how a character of mine does something, I will walk the crime scene." I announced. My face broke into a smile as I continued. "There was this one time, I was trying to figure out how to throw someone off the Empire State Building, and that was when that movie, _Sleepless In Seattle_ had just come out. So many lonely women approached me, thinking I was their Tom Hanks. I got laid..."

"Castle!" Beckett scolded.

I looked at Beckett and saw the shimmering of amusement in those hazel eyes of her and the quirk up her eyebrow.

"The point is," I said returning to the matter in hand, "you want to get into the killer's head, go to where the killer was and see what problems he had to face."

There was a thoughtful look on Beckett's face as she considered my words. She looked over to me and I saw the smile rising to her lips.

"Field trip?" I suggested with a grin.

As it was too late to go out on the suggested field trip, I invited Beckett to join Alexis and me in laser tag. She declined the offer of a game of laser tag with a laugh, telling me that she did not want to embarrass me in front of my daughter. I scoffed at that, retorting she was afraid to be beaten by me. In the end Beckett did not join our laser tag game but she left the loft looking and feeling a lot better than when she had arrived.

I also made another entry on my Beckett list. Get to play laser tag with her. You might be wondering the outcome of the epic battle of laser tag that had been interrupted. The Rebels won the round. The mighty Voltarian warrior happened to be distracted a little by the case he was working on and thoughts of a certain female detective.

XXXXX

_**I would like to know what you thin of this effort.**_

_**Con **_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Case of A Chill Goes Through Her Veins

Part 4

Roger, the owner of apartment 917 was not exactly happy to have Beckett and me show up at his front door again but we were able to convince him that we needed to take a look around because his apartment was the scene of the murder. Reluctantly he stepped aside and allowed us in to take a look around.

Beckett and I were standing in Roger's living room. He was there too watching us, a frown on his face.

"They told me was shot in a mugging." Roger said. "And now you're telling me he was killed here, in my apartment?"

"Not him. His wife." I told him.

"His wife?" Roger exclaimed. "What kind of family was this?"

Having surveyed the living room I turned to face Beckett.

"Alright, so you and I are married." I said.

"We are not married." Beckett retorted sharply.

"Relax. It's just pretend."

"I don't want to pretend." She insisted.

"Scared you'll like it?" I leered.

"Okay." Beckett's eyes narrowed as she looked at me. "If if we're married, I want a divorce."

Ouch, I thought to myself.

"Are you two like this all the time?" Roger asked.

Beckett and I turned to look at Roger. "Yes." We said in unison.

Beckett and I looked at each other, surprised.

"Alright. We're not married." I conceded. "But they were."

Beckett nodded her head.

"Let's say the doorman was right. Melanie gets home about four o'clock." I said.

"She'd have to make dinner for the kids." Beckett said.

I turned and quickly made my way into the kitchen. Beckett followed. Our eyes surveyed the kitchen.

"Then Sam comes home." I said.

"Banker's hours. Around six o'clock." Beckett supplied.

"Figure, kids have already eaten."

"So, they're what...um. Watching TV in the bedroom."

"In my bedroom?" Roger piped up, looking shocked.

"Ssh. We're on a roll." I told him.

And we were. I felt a sense of excitement growing within me as Beckett and I worked back and forth building theory as to how Melanie had been killed. We were working like a well oiled machine. Beckett too was finding it hard to conceal her excitement.

"They have a fight." Beckett announced.

"About the affair." I suggested.

"About Philadelphia." Beckett said firmly.

I moved closer to where Beckett was standing.

"Things got heated." I continued.

"And she turns her head..." Beckett mimicked the actions turning her head.

"He whacks her with something!" I declare.

At the same time Beckett and I look around searching for something to use as a weapon. We each grabbed a cooking implement.

"A pot." Beckett declared triumphantly, holding up the cooking pot she had grabbed. She saw what I was holding. She shrugged her shoulders. "Or a pan."

I made a motion of striking with the frying pan that I held. "Bam! Fractures her skull. It's over."

"Except the kids are still in the bedroom." Beckett pointed out. "He's got to figure out a way of getting her out of the apartment without them seeing."

Setting the frying pan down I moved slowly through the kitchen survey the terrain. I came to a stop near the door and looked down the hallway. My face suddenly brightened when my eyes picked out the open door of a room along the hallway. I pointed to it.

"Hallway bathroom." I announced excitedly.

We left the kitchen and moved down the hallway, Roger silently followed us. Entering the bathroom we looked around.

"He needed to buy time." I said.

"Okay, umm. He puts the body in the tub." Beckett pointed to the tub. "And closes the door."

Beckett then closed the door right in Roger's face. If I was not so excited about building theory with Beckett I might have taken a moment to ponder if Beckett had closed the door in Roger's face as payback for what he had done to us the other day. I would like to think it was. But there was no time for that. We were still on a roll.

"And he tells the kids that Mom went to the store." Beckett said.

"Which according to the file, the doorman was never able to substantiate." I added.

Beckett turned to look at me, a small frown appearing.

"Okay. So no car. How does he get the body out of the apartment?" She asked.

I regarded Beckett with a puzzled look on my face. I had no answer to that question. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it quickly.

The bathroom door was opened by Roger.

"Maybe he hailed a cab?" He suggested.

Beckett turned her head to look at him and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Maybe the cabbie and the doorman helped him stuff the body in the trunk." She said sarcastically. "How much do you tip for that these days?"

"The doorman!" I exclaimed.

"Castle, I'm joking."

"What if the body was already in the freezer when he took it out of the apartment?" I suggested.

Removing a body from an apartment without being seen would have been very difficult. However if the body was concealed in the freezer, no one would give it much thought if they saw the freezer being removed from the apartment.

"Freezer? He'd have needed a truck." Roger said.

I moved toward Roger.

"In my building, if you have something picked up or delivered, you have to sign for it." I said.

"Yeah, here too." Roger nodded. "Delivery that big, you'd have to sign the ledger."

"The ledger?" Beckett questioned.

"The doorman's ledger downstairs." Roger informed us.

Riding the elevator down to the lobby I saw that Beckett had a small smile on her face. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. My suggestion of getting into the killer's head and walking through the murder scene had an unearthed a new lead for us to follow.

The doorman was more than happy to assist police inquiries. It took the man a little while to dig up the old doorman's ledger as it had been stored away. Half an hour later he had returned to the front desk bringing with him a thick dust covered book. Beckett quickly flipped through the pages of the looking for the date when Melanie had been murdered. Finding the right page she found what she was looking for. Beckett turned to look at me with a beaming smile.

XXX

Delores Marsh was an old woman aged in her seventies, diminutive and grey haired she did not look all that pleased at being interrupted but made an effort to be cooperative with the police. She peered through her still chain latched door and studied the page of the ledger that Beckett was holding out to her.

"Yes." Mrs Mrash nodded her head. "That's my name."

Beckett closed the ledger and smiled at the old woman.

"I know it was five years ago, Mrs Marsh." Beckett said. "But the only delivery that day was to your apartment. If you remember anything at all about the delivery..."

"Oh I remember." Mrs Marsh said. "I had to go downstairs and sort everything out."

"What do you mean, 'sort everything out'?"

"I told the doorman I never ordered a freezer. But the guy brought it on up. He loaded it on the freight elevator while I was talking to the doorman." Mrs Marsh explained.

Beckett cast a glance in my direction before she turned to look at the old lady.

"So, what happened when you were downstairs?" She asked.

Mrs Marsh let out a long sigh, looking almost put upon at having to recall the events of that five years ago.

"I told the doorman they got the wrong apartment, again." Mrs Marsh said. "Then, by the time I got back upstairs, the guy was gone."

Beckett nodded her head.

"Does this have anything to do with that missing woman?" The old lady inquired.

"Yeah, it does."

"Because, I already told the other cop."

Beckett and I shared a surprised look.

"Detective Sloan?" Beckett prompted.

Mrs Marsh shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know his name, but I told him everything, same as you."

Beckett thanked Mrs Marsh for her help. We headed downstairs to return the ledger to the doorman and to get the name of the delivery company that delivered the freezer to Mrs Marsh.

An hour or so later Beckett and I arrived out the front of Mueller Brothers Delivery Service. Walking through the gate we started to make our way to the office. There were a few trucks in the yard being loaded or unloaded. I was still pondering over why Sloan would bother to interview Mrs Marsh over the freezer delivery.

"I don't get it." I said. "If Sloan had that woman's report, why didn't he just follow up?"

Beckett cast a glance at me.

"He wasn't looking for a story. He'd already written it." Beckett said, putting it in a way I could comprehend.

I nodded my head in understanding. My attention to the truck that was in front of us. The dark green colour scheme was familiar. I remembered seeing it elsewhere.

"That's the same kind of truck we saw Charles Wyler's store." I pointed out.

"He must have a contract with them." Beckett suggested, looking at the truck.

I stopped walking. Beckett also stopped walking and she turned to look at me a quizzical look on her face.

"If you wanted help with some heavy lifting, who would you call?" I asked.

"Your best friend." Beckett supplied, her face brightening.

The office manager of the delivery company was able to pull up the records for the delivery of the freezer to Mrs Marsh. Beckett and I could not hide the smiles when we saw the name of the person who had hired the truck.

XXX

It was early evening when Beckett and I entered the interrogation room to begin proceedings. Charles Wyler had been sitting in there for a while wondering what was going on. He had seen the look on Beckett's face when she had walked in and his whole demeanour seemed to deflate, he knew he was in trouble. Beckett was seated at the table while I chose to lean on the wall to watch Beckett.

"We can trace the rental of the delivery truck to you, Mr Wyler." Beckett said waving her hand over the open file in front of her. "If you want, I can bring the lady you delivered the freezer to in to identify you."

"Look, I had nothing to do with what happened to Melanie." Wyler insisted.

"You've lied about everything else, why not about this?" I told him.

"I never had any reason to hurt her." There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"But Sam did, right?" Beckett pressed. "I mean she kept going back to her ex-boyfriend. How much can a guy take?"

Wyler let out a long sigh.

"He called me that night." He said slowly. "He said he needed me to come over right away."

Wyler paused a moment and cast his eyes to the table as if he was trying to recall the events of that night when Melanie had been killed. He then lifted his eyes and resumed talking.

"When I got there, the kids were asleep and Melanie was in the tub, in a garment bag. Sam said she had come at him, and he just snapped."

"Here's an idea, instead of killing her, why not get a divorce?" I suggested.

"You don't think I know how wrong this was?" Wyler retorted angrily.

"Why did you take the risk?" I said. "Why did you move the body?"

"Because he made a very bad mistake." Wyler said carefully. "And what about the kids? Their mom is dead. If he goes to prison..."

"So, you arranged for the truck." Beckett prompted.

Wyler nodded his head. "He said it could never be traced back to him. That's why we sent the freezer to the old lady. That's why I rented out the storage space. Because we knew the cops would look at Sam."

"You made the payments?" Beckett said.

"Sam couldn't take any chances." Wyler replied. "He'd give me the cash, and I'd stop by twice a year."

"For five years?" I said, sounding a little incredulous.

"Seemed a lot easier than moving her." Wyler shrugged.

"Why did you stop paying?" Beckett asked him.

Wyler drew in a heavy breath then exhaled it in a long weary sigh.

"Look, I'm truly sorry about what happened to Melanie." Wyler pleaded. "But what was I suppose to do? Keep paying for the rest of my life?"

Beckett closed the file and rose to her feet. She leaned closer to Wyler. I saw the hard look on her face as she stared at Wyler. I for one was very grateful I was not on the receiving end of that look.

"The DA and I will make sure of that Mr Wyler." She said coldly.

Wyler shuddered at her response as he watched he leave the interrogation room. I eased myself off the wall. Wyler gave me a pleading look but all I could give him in return was a sad shake of his head.

I was seated beside Beckett's desk while she was doing the paperwork for the case. My attention was focused on Sloan's report. Something did not sit right with me and decided to go over the report to see if I could find anything. I think Beckett was grateful for the silence as she did the paperwork.

Captain Montgomery stopped by Beckett's desk on his way out and Beckett briefed him on the outcome of the case.

"Her body gets dumped because this guy Wyler didn't pay a bill?" Captain Montgomery said in disbelief. "That's..." The captain's voice trailed off.

"You can say it. Pretty cold." I said looking up from the file. "It's ironic that a selfish act ultimately revealed the truth."

"There were people who knew the truth all along." Beckett said tersely. "They just chose not to come forward."

"Still," Montgomery said trying to lighten the mood. "Karma comes back and puts a cap in the husband's ass. So all is right with the world." With that he was left for the night.

I had a feeling that Beckett would disagree with that remark. Looking at her I saw that she chose not to voice her thoughts. She glanced at her watch before she turned her attention to me.

"I'm going to talk to Melanie's parents. Let them know how this shook out." She announced. "You want to come?

I waved to the file I had been reading.

"The woman with the freezer delivery told us she talked to a cop." I said.

"Yeah. Sloan." Beckett replied, looking a little unsure where I was going with this.

"Only he didn't list her in his report."

"He didn't feel that it was important." Beckett shrugged. "After all, he didn't believe he was looking at a murder."

"Right. So, if you're not investigating a murder, why would you talk to a neighbour about a freezer delivery?"

I could see the wheels turning in Beckett's head as she precessed my question. A moment later her eyes widened a little when she realised that I had raised an interesting question. She grabbed her coat and things.

"Come on." She said as she headed out of the bullpen.

XXX

Mrs Marsh partly opened her front door in answer to our knock and was surprised to find Beckett and me standing there. She rolled her eyes at us.

"This must be some freezer." Mrs Marsh remarked.

"You mentioned a police officer, Mrs Marsh." Beckett said. "I know it's been five years, but do..."

"I never said it was five years ago." Mrs Marsh interjected.

"When did he come see you?" I asked.

"Last year, sometime." Mrs Marsh replied. "I remember thinking, 'why is this cop asking me questions about a freezer I never ordered?'"

"Do you remember anything about the man who came to see you?" Beckett asked her.

"He was older."

"Uniform?"

"No, plain clothes, like you. He had grey hair, and he walked with a limp."

Beckett turned to look at me with a surprised look on her face.

"Ben Davidson." I said.

"Melanie's Dad." She added.

The drive out to White Plains was done in silence. For a change I was not in the frame of mind to fidget or to bother Beckett with some of my annoying habits. I did not like the way the case had just turned out. Beckett did not either.

Pulling out the front of the Davidson's house Beckett remained in the car. She turned her gaze towards the house and from one of the windows we could see the children playing with their grandfather.

"You could just leave it like this." I suggested gently, breaking the silence in the car. "Sam's dead. The captain's happy. Those kids look pretty happy."

Beckett slowly turned her head to look at me. The unhappiness she felt was on display on her face.

"That's the difference between a novel and the real world, Castle." She said. "A cop doesn't get to decide how the story ends."

I was going to say something in reply to that but my words died before they found a voice when she opened the door and stepped out of the car. For a moment I thought of getting out and joining her but I thought better of it. I watched her as she made her way to the house. There was none of that confident stride that was her normal gait. It was a slow walk, almost as if she did not want to make it. Did not want to walk up to the front door, knock on it and when it was opened, to change the lives of those who lived in there.

Despite her own personal feelings in the matter she was still a cop and she had a job to do. She reached the front door and knocked on it. A couple of moments later the door was answered by Ben Davidson.

XXX

Ben Davidson sat in the interrogation room with his hands clasped together as he faced Beckett and me. There was annoyed look on his face as he looked from me over to Beckett.

"I'm here because I questioned a woman about a freezer?" He said, scowling at us.

"Not any freezer, Mr Davidson." I said. "The freezer that your daughter's body was stored in."

There was a flicker of the pain of losing his daughter in his eyes. It was brief but I saw it. I did not want to begin to imagine what he must have gone through, was still going through, having lost his daughter.

"For the moment, let's assume what you say is true. What's the charge?" Davidson said.

"If Mrs Marsh's answer led to Sam's death, then the charge would be murder." Beckett informed him.

Davidson dropped his gaze and studied his clasped hands for several moments. Slowly he lifted his eyes.

"I kept going over everything Sam said, everything he claimed happened that night," Davidson said slowly, "until I came to the same conclusion that you both apparently did, that Melanie never left her apartment alive. Mrs Marsh's answers merely confirmed what I already knew."

"That your son-in-law was a killer." Beckett supplied.

"If you had figured out what Sam had done, why not just go to the police?" I asked him. "He would have gone to prison for the rest of his life."

"If he'd been convicted. They didn't have a body at the time, remember?" Davidson snarled. Suddenly remembering himself he reined in his anger. "His lawyers would have put Melanie on trial, not him."

"So you took matters into your own hands."

Davidson regarded Beckett carefully for several moments before he spoke. He said that he could certainly understand how a father might want to. He could understand how a father might follow his daughter's murderer one dark night, when he was sure no other people would be around. How that father might confront the man with a gun he had brought back from the war. How he might promise the murderer forgiveness in exchange for the truth. And he could well understand that on hearing the admission be overcome with rage.

"Every time he brought the girls to see us, I watched a little piece of my wife die." Davidson said choked with emotion. "A visit from your grandkids should be life affirming, not a reminder of how your only child was murdered.

I really felt for Ben Davidson. I shudder to think what I would have done if I had been in his shoes. I never want to think about what I would do.

"Killing him wasn't the answer." Beckett told him in a quiet voice.

Davidson sat up straighter in his chair and looked at us.

"I never said I killed him." He declared. "I said a father might be justified. Police told me that Sam was shot in a robbery. And, without evidence, there would be little chance his killer would ever be brought to justice."

Davidson paused a moment as his gaze shifted from me and over to Beckett.

"So I guess we'll find out if that's really true. I'd like to see a lawyer, if I could."

XXX

After leaving the interrogation room I slipped to somewhere private and made a call to Alexis. All of a sudden I had an urgent need to hear my daughter's voice. As I was winding up the call I came around the corner and saw Beckett sitting at her desk staring at a picture of Melanie Cavanaugh.

"No, sweetie, I just wanted to make sure I said good night." I told my daughter, as I reached Beckett's desk. "You got it, strawberry happy face pancakes on me. Later."

I rang off and sat down in my chair. Beckett smiled a little more.

"Alexis missed me." I explained.

"How did you know?"

"Spidey-sense." I grinned.

Beckett set the photo of Melanie in the file and closed it. She sat back and glanced at me.

"By the way, it was my mother, not my father."

The grin that I had on my face vanished immediately. I leaned a little closer to her remaining silent and barely breathing

"We were supposed to go to dinner together, my mom, my dad, and I, and she was going to meet us at the restaurant, but she never showed."

I could see the tears welling in her eyes, she was trying hard not to shed them.

"Two hours later, we went home, and there was a detective waiting for us. Detective Raglan. They had found her body. She had been stabbed."

"A robbery?" I asked in a low voice.

Beckett shook her head. "No. She still had her money and her purse and jewellery. And it wasn't sexual assault either." Beckett paused to take a breath, her eyes shinning. "They attributed it to gang violence. Random wayward event."

Beckett paused to look over to me. "So, just like Melanie's case, they couldn't think outside the box. So they just try to package it up nicely. And the killer was never caught."

I nodded my head slowly, processing everything Beckett had told me. The urge to rise from my chair and wrapping her in a huge hug was nearly overpowering but I some how remained seated.

"Why do you wear the watch?" I asked.

"My Dad took her death hard. He's sober now, five years." Beckett said with a sad, watery smile, that was ever so brief. She lifted her hand and pointed to the watch on her wrist. "So this is for the life I saved. And..."

Beckett paused as she reached into her shirt and pulled out the necklace she wore and showed me the ring that was on it.

"And this...is for the life I lost." She forced a smile to her face as she looked at me. "So, I guess your Nikki Heat has a back story now, Castle."

I leaned back in my chair, finally able to breath properly again. I resorted to the one weapon in my armoury that could ease the heavy atmosphere that had descended.

"I don't know..." I mused aloud. "I did kind of liked the hooker by day, cop by night thing. But I guess a heavy emotional angle could work too."

Beckett graced me with a warm smile which I returned.

"Well, don't bewilder your audience with substance on my account, Castle." Beckett said as she got to her feet and gathered her things.

"Until tomorrow, Detective." I said gently.

"Can't you just say 'night'?"

"I'm a writer." I replied. "'Night', is boring. 'Until tomorrow', is more...hopeful."

Beckett nodded her head. "Well, I'm a cop. Night."

I watched as Beckett left the bullpen.

"Night." I whispered.

Today I came to understand Detective Kate Beckett a little better. I saw why she was one of the best detectives in the entire NYPD, why she had one of the highest clearance rates in the department. She was a seeker of answers. It was her self appointed role to bring answers to the families of victims. The kind of answers that was denied to her. And if anyone deserved answers, it was Kate Beckett.

I had seen the pain and anguish on the face of Julie Davidson, that pain had aged her before her years, because she had been left to wonder what had become of her daughter. And I saw the sadness and pain that haunted Beckett's eyes. I dearly wished to be able to alleviate that pain.

The appearance by Detective Esposito drew me out of my reveries.

"What are you still doing here, bro?" He asked. "You got nothing better to do?"

Suddenly I was struck by an idea. I jumped out of my chair and went over to Esposito's desk and started to talking to him.

XXX

It took a lot of effort on my part to convince Esposito to let me take a look at Beckett's mother's case. I never realised until that moment how fiercely protective her was of Beckett. He was like a protective brother. This unabashed show of loyalty made me like him even more. After a lot of pleading and a few promises, not to mention a few tickets to some basketball games thrown in, I managed to convince Esposito to give me the file.

He led led me out of the bullpen and we headed downstairs to basement of the precinct to where the Records room was located. It was a large dusty, musty room that was full of rows of shelves crammed with boxes full of files, solved and unsolved. He went along one row until he found the box he was looking for. He opened the box and rummaged through it until he pulled out the file. He turned and passed the file to me.

"Remember, this never happened." Esposito said. "I was never here."

"You have my word." I nodded. "Thanks."

Esposito nodded he was about to walk away but remembering something he paused and looked at me, his face a deep scowl.

"If you tell her I did this, I'll make you bleed." He warned.

"Understood."

"Good luck."

I made my way over to one of the reading tables where I set the file down. I switched on the desk lamp and sat down staring down at the file. The overhead lights were dimmed by Esposito on his way out, plunging the Records room in near darkness but truth be told I was not aware, my eyes were riveted on the file on the desk. My thoughts were that if I could find a clue, perhaps it would lead to finding the killer and getting answers for Beckett.

I studied the photograph of Johanna Beckett that was pinned to the front of the file. Johanna Beckett had been a beautiful woman. I could see where Beckett had gotten her looks from. I had no doubt that Johanna would be so proud of the way her daughter had turned out.

Taking a calming breath I opened the file and began to read it.

I had no idea what I was about to unleash. I was not opening a can of worms but a can of snakes. Deadly snakes. The most deadliest of snakes. It would be some time before I realised what my actions had caused.

XXXXX

_**There you have it the end of another case. As per usual, your thoughts would be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	21. Chapter 21

The Case of Always Buy Retail:

Part 1

The day had not started well. Meredith, ex-wife number one, had made one of her flying visits to New York. At least that is what I thought when I opened the front door and found her standing there with her luggage. I had barely recovered from the shock of the unexpected surprise before we were tearing at our clothes and making our way to my bedroom.

This is in my more shallower days, I hasten to say. In those shallower days I was never above having sex with ex-wife Number One. Despite her betrayal by having an affair with her director, moving to Malibu and then serving me with divorce papers and all the pain that ensued, I could put aside all that and jump into the sack with her.

We had finished round two and were coming up for air and in our post coital high we began to rattle off our top ten best ever bouts of sex. I was amazed at some of the places we had sex. What amazed me even more was how in the world we had not been caught.

It was in that moment when Meredith chose to drop the bombshell. She was moving back to New York. I could not quite believe what she had just said. Her announcement that she was returning to New York to live was like a bucket of cold water in the face. It cooled my ardour pretty quick smart.

I wanted to discuss this shocking piece of news but ex-wife Number One had other ideas as she started kissing me as she made her way down my body.

I was never more grateful for my phone ringing. I almost cried with relief to learn that a body had dropped. I could not get out of the loft fast enough but my mind was distracted about the implications of Meredith's return to the Big Apple. Bottom line, none of them good.

We were standing on the ground floor of an abandoned building that was not long for demolition. The victim lay on his back on a large square of red flannel, a burned-down candle was clutched in his hand and a glass bowl of blood sat near his head.

Detective Esposito was crouched beside the body and Detective Ryan was on the other side of the body.

"The vic's an African-American male, early twenties." Esposito announced. He waved his hand towards the stab wounds. "Multiple stab wounds. Contusions on the arms and torso. Body was discovered by a homeless guy."

"He was beaten and maybe tortured." Detective Beckett observed.

"Looks like some kind of ritualistic killing." Ryan remarked.

"You think?" Beckett retorted.

Beckett turned to look at me. I had been noticeably quiet in the car riding over to the murder scene and was quiet now. I was still mulling over what ex-wife Number One had announced and what I had been doing with her before she decided to drop the bombshell. Ever perceptive, Beckett had noticed my silence.

"Hello?" She said to me, frowning.

I shook off my thoughts and looked at Beckett.

"You okay?" Beckett asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"I had sex with my ex-wife this morning." I confessed.

That announcement caught everyone's attention. All three detectives looked at me.

"My first ex-wife, Meredith. Alexis' mom." I explained.

Once more my mind wandered back to my previous thoughts but this time thoughts were put to voice.

"And she's thinking of moving back to New York. Do you know what that would mean to me? That would be a very special brand of hell. The hell of a deep fried Twinkie."

"A deep fried Twinkie?" Ryan said, looking confused.

"Yeah. The guilty pleasure that you know is bad for you, so you only do it once maybe twice a year for the novelty. But a deep fried Twinkie every day is..." I did not finish the sentence other than to shudder visibly at the thought.

"Castle!" Beckett snapped.

I looked at her. "What?"

"Crime scene. Dead body. A little respect here." Beckett said motioning to the body.

"I don't think he can hear me." I replied.

"Okay, how about a little self-respect, then?" Beckett suggested with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Fine." I agreed. Admittedly she did have a point. I motioned to the body. "Check his mouth. There's probably a little pouch in there."

On a consenting nod form Beckett, Esposito gently opened the victim's mouth. A look of surprise sprang to his face as he reached into the mouth and pulled out a small white fabric bundle. He looked up and showed the bundle in his hand.

"How did you know?" Beckett said as she rounded on me.

"Open it." I told Esposito.

Esposito carefully opened the bundle to reveal a silver disc that looked like a charm of some kind. On the fabric itself there was a mysterious symbol drawn in red ink.

"What does it mean?" Esposito asked me.

"It's Vodun." I informed everyone.

"Vodun? What is that, some kind of Star Trek thing?" Esposito said with a smirk.

"No dude, it's a religion." Ryan interjected. "Practised primarily in West Africa."

Esposito shot his partner a curious look.

"What?" Ryan said a little defensively. "I read too."

"The blood in the bowl, most likely animal blood. Part of the ceremony." I explained. "The pouch is an offering to the spirits, but I don't recognise the symbol."

"If you did, you'd be a suspect." Esposito said grimly. "So how do you know about all this?"

"Research for my sixth Derrick Storm novel." I explained.

"Unholy Storm." Ryan said with a grin.

I could not help but grin. I was pleased to see that Ryan read my books. I was further pleased to note that more than one detective in this team read my books.

"Yes, thank you." I smiled at Ryan. "And Vodun is not just limited to West Africa. It is also practised by Haitian and Dominican communities right here in New York."

Beckett had been listening to my explanation about Vodun and now she stepped in.

"Have CSU run the pouch. Have the ME test the blood. And let's get his prints in the system, see if there's an ID." She ordered the boys. She turned to look at me.

"I assume that it was done for a specific purpose?"

Before I had a chance to say anything Esposito interjected.

"That's only assuming that guy doing this was rational." He said.

"No, no. Beckett's right." I said. "It might not make sense to you or me, but if we found out why he did this, we might find your killer."

"Yeah, that's kinda how we do it." Esposito said with a smirk.

"Do you still have the research?" Beckett asked me.

"As a matter of fact, I do." I replied with a grin on my face.

XXX

Before Beckett accompanied me back to the loft we made a stop at the precinct to set up the murder board and to print up some photos from the murder scene. While Beckett was writing up the murder board and waiting for copies of the photos I made a call.

I was feeling pleased with myself that Beckett had come back to my place. My intentions were pure, I assure you, really. I had not expected her to. She could have easily asked me to go home and get the research then bring it to the precinct but she didn't.

It was not until I started to open the front door that I realised ex-wife Number One might still be in the loft. I had forgotten about Meredith and all of a sudden I was feeling anxious.

I had vague recollections of Meredith saying that she was staying at some hotel. And I think she might have mentioned something about going out shopping when I was racing out of the loft to attend the murder scene. But knowing Meredith anything was possible. Meredith still being in my loft was a distinct possibility.

There was nothing for it, I told myself as I opened the front door and allowed Beckett to walk in. Thankfully the loft was quiet. There was no sign of ex-wife Number One. I could have sighed with relief at this but I didn't.

I escorted her into my study. I moved over to one of the bookshelves and searched for the book I was looking for. Finding the book I pulled it out and walked over to my desk. I made sure to hide the cover from Beckett's eyes. I opened the book and flipped through the pages until I found the appropriate page. Looking up I saw that Beckett had made herself comfortable and waited for me to start reading.

"The purpose of their rituals was to make contact with the spirits and the spirit world. To gain their favour through sacrifice."

I paused in my reading to glance up and saw Beckett was listening intently. I suppressed the grin that was threatening the break across my face. I lowered my eyes back to the book.

"Storm was pretty sure he'd sacrifice anything when he saw the amulet swaying rhythmically back and forth between the woman's bare, glistening breasts."

"_Unholy Storm?_" Beckett exclaimed. "You dragged me here so that you could from your own book?"

"Hey, there's a lot of good stuff in here." I defended. "Some of it factual."

So, okay, I was having a little lend of her by reading from _Unholy Storm._ Beckett had not cracked it for a smile all morning and I thought she needed to smile. I wanted to see her smile. My effort to make her smile ended up face planting on the ground.

Beckett did not look at all pleased. She glared angrily at me and jumped to her feet.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I have a murder to solve." Beckett said tersely as she headed out of my office.

I got up and chased after her.

"I thought that's what we were doing?" I said.

Beckett levelled another glare at me and continued walking.

"Okay, I...I am just kidding." I confessed. "I have another source."

"And you call your ex-wife 'a deep-fried Twinkie'"

"Oh trust me. As annoying and intrusive as you think I am, she's a million times worse."

We were crossing the living room with Beckett making a bee-line for the front door.

"What about Alexis?" Beckett questioned. "Maybe she misses her mom. Maybe it would be a good idea to have her back in town."

"Yeah right." I scoffed at her suggestion. "This one time, when Alexis was nine, Meredith dropped by to take her to lunch."

"So?" Beckett said, quirking her eyebrows.

"In Paris!" I exclaimed. "Paris! And then she acted like there was nothing wrong. She's like Aunt Mame on meth."

I still have the occasional nightmare over that particular episode. I was frantic when I couldn't find Alexis. I had done the usual ringing around to her friends but they had not seen her. It got to the point where I was ready to call the police when Meredith called to inform me that she had taken Alexis to lunch. In Paris! I must confess I used a lot of ungentlemanly language on being told what she had done. I swear if Meredith had been standing in front of me I would have strangled her there and then, and Alexis would end up for all intents and purposes an orphan.

I almost did the following day when Meredith and Alexis returned from their jaunt to Paris. Thankfully mother was there to keep and eye on me and restrain me from doing anything rash. I think that was the first time I had wanted to really kill someone.

Beckett had reached the front door and had her hand on the door knob. She paused and turned to look at me.

"If she's so bad, then why did you sleep with her this morning?"

There was a tone in her voice which I could not quite decipher but I did not dwell on it.

I could not help but grin at her. "Let me tell you something about crazy people. The sex is unbelievable."

"How shallow are you?"

"Very." I said truthfully.

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You know, I don't have time for this." Beckett declared.

Beckett opened the door and was startled to find my other source standing in the doorway. Her name was Michelle. She was an attractive African-American woman aged in her early thirties. Michelle was holding a large food delivery bag.

"Did someone order lunch?" Michelle asked, holding up the bag.

I moved to stand beside Beckett.

"Detective Beckett, meet my other source." I said.

It took a little coaxing from me to convince Beckett to stay. I don't know whether it was my pleading, the chance to question my source or the food that Michelle had brought over but Beckett sat at my kitchen table with Michelle and me tucking into the stew that Michelle had brought. I was pleased to see Beckett tucking into the food. There are times when I think Beckett is just a touch too skinny. I don't see her eat all that much.

While Beckett and I were enjoying the food Michelle was inspecting the crime scene photos. She was holding a particular photo studying it carefully.

"The symbol's a Vever a representation of one who can open crossroads into the spirit world." Michelle announced.

I glanced at Beckett, who was sitting to my right. "Michelle taught me everything I know about Vodun." I informed her.

Michelle looked up from the photo she had been studying and gave me a look.

"Which, obviously wasn't much." She said. "That scene with the topless girl and the chicken blood?What was that?"

"I took a few liberties." I said primly.

Michelle levelled another look at me before she drew her attention back to the photograph in her hand.

"You know, from the design, I'd say this isn't Hatian, Jamaican or Dominican. This is hard core Nigerian."

"What about this charm?" Beckett asked as she passed over another photograph.

Michelle studied the photograph a moment and then looked up.

"The charm is an offering to a Vodun saint." Michelle replied. "In this case it's, Orgun. He's usually called upon to help find something that's been lost."

"So our killer is looking for something." I said.

"Something the victim once possessed." Michelle nodded her head.

"Maybe that's why he was tortured." Beckett suggested. She looked over to Michelle. "Could the kind of ceremony indicate what the killer was looking for?"

"Unfortunately, no."

I noticed a look of curiosity settle over Beckett's face.

"How do you know so much about this?" She asked Michelle.

"Because I practice." Michelle informed her. "My junior year, I spent abroad in Nigeria. Fell in love with the religion, the food."

"Michelle owns the best Nigerian restaurant in the city." I told Beckett.

"It's funny, I never would have pegged you for the occult type." Beckett said.

"Occult is in the eye of beholder, Detective." Michelle replied. "As bizarre as Vodun may seem to you, I assure you, the beliefs of Western religions seem just as strange to outsiders."

Beckett nodded her head in understanding and popped another spoonful of her stew.

"How do you like your cow's foot stew?" Michelle inquired.

"Cow's foot?" Beckett said in a low voice. She turned her head to me. "You said it was beef."

"Technically, cow is beef." I replied. "Besides, you said you liked it."

The stricken look that leaped to Beckett's face when she learned she was eating cow's foot stew was so adorable. I almost burst out laughing. There was a moment there when I thought she was going to spit out the food or choke on it. To her credit Beckett did neither. She swallowed recovered from her shock and looked across to Michelle.

"So, this murder, is that part of the ceremony as well?" She asked.

"No. Vodun is a peaceful, deeply spiritual religion practised by millions of people across the world every day."

"I doubt whoever did this is very peaceful." Beckett said waving her free hand at the photos on the table.

"No." Michelle agreed. "Your killer may be Vodun, but that's not why this man is dead. He was killed because he had something the killer desperately wants. And he's not going to stop until he finds it."

Beckett was ready with another question but was interrupted by her phone ringing. She excused herself and answered the call. The call did not take long. On ringing off she informed me that another body had been found in similar circumstances as the body we had found this morning. Needless to say, lunch was curtailed pretty quickly.

XXX

Beckett and I arrived at an Upper West Side apartment to find uniforms and CSU people milling about. Looking around, the place had been trashed. Tables had been overturned, lamps lay broken on the floor, a real mess. Esposito and Ryan were standing over the victim, a female. She was positioned in the same ritualistic position as the first body.

"Victim's name is Darcy Cho." Ryan announced at Beckett's approach. "Second year lawyer at a firm downtown."

"Multiple stab wounds. Just like the first one." Esposito added.

"Neighbour found the door open and called the super." Ryan continued, he pointed to the body on the floor. "This is what they found."

Beckett nodded her head and moved a little closer to the body and studied it. I came to stand beside her.

"The staging is exactly the same." I remarked.

"Yeah. When they saw what they had, the West Side boys gave us a call." Esposito said.

"Looks like she put up a fight. Defensive wounds on her forearms." Beckett pointed out.

"Paraphanalia's the same." Esposito held up an evidence bag for Beckett to see. The bag contained a pouch and a charm. "And I found another charm in her mouth."

"Anything back from CSU on the other scene?" Beckett asked.

"Candle's basic paraffin found in any bodega. Figure it's gonna be the same with this one. Cloth is common red flannel. Glass bowl, made in China." Ryan said.

Beckett motioned to the blood in the glass bowl.

"What about the blood?" She asked.

"Chicken blood." Esposito informed her.

Beckett's gaze moved to the shredded Chanel purse laying close to the body. She bent down and pick up the purse with her pen and studied it closely.

"Maybe she used this purse to defend herself." She suggested.

"We know he hasn't found what he was looking for." I said.

"How do you know?" Ryan asked me.

"The charm in her mouth. He still needs the spirits to guide him." I replied.

A smile broke across Ryan's face.

"Chapter 10." He said nodding his head.

I really had to get Ryan a signed copy of my latest book, I thought to myself.

"Find out what you can about Darcy." Beckett announced looking at Esposito. "See if she knew our first victim. I want to know how these murders are connected.

"Right." Esposito replied.

Esposito and Ryan departed from the scene to carry out Beckett's orders. Beckett and I remained at this scene for a little longer looking it over to see if we could find any clues that could lead us to the murderer. Unfortunately we found nothing, if only it was that easy. We left the scene to the CSU crew to gather what ever evidence they could find and headed back to the precinct.

XXX

At the precinct I helped Beckett set up the murder board while we were making notations on the board, actually Beckett was doing the notations and I stood back supervising, Ryan was interviewing one of Darcy Cho's work colleague who had come in to speak to the police about Darcy. Beckett had assigned Ryan to do the interview.

Now you might wondering why Beckett preferred to write up the murder board and gave the job of interviewing the victim's friend to Ryan. No mystery really. The murder board is pretty much Beckett's baby. It's part of the ritual of any murder investigation she leads. It's her vehicle to find the story behind the murder that will eventually lead to the murderer. She hasn't said as much about it to me but that is what I have concluded.

Once the murder board was up and running listing all the information we had gathered from the two murders Beckett and I went over the information, familiarising ourselves, memorising.

Captain Montgomery stopped by on his way to his office. He had been out of the building and from the look on his face I would have bet he had been down town at 1 Police Plaza, or 1PP for short, attending one of the regular Compstat Meetings. He did not look too hung drawn and quartered, so I figured that the meeting had not gone too badly for him.

Beckett gave him a briefing on the two murders we had caught this morning. The captain listened and asked a pertinent question or two to get a better understanding of the cases. Ryan having finished with the victim's friend had seen the woman out and came to join us.

"I spoke to Jill Button, Darcy's BFF." Ryan announced once he joined us. "She's pretty familiar with all of Darcy's friends and clients, but she's never seen the vic before. The law firm does some corporate stuff, some immigration work, but there's nothing to indicate any involvement in something like this."

"So, our victim gets killed in a religious ritual, and then history repeats itself with this lawyer the very same day?" Captain Montgomery summarised.

"There's a lawyer joke there somewhere, I just can't think of it." I said.

My untimely interjection received what it properly deserved, a roll of Beckett's eyes. I was a little annoyed at myself for not being able to come up with a suitable lawyer joke. I thought I'd better look up some jokes so that I could have them in my armoury for the future, just in case.

"And the killer tosses the woman's apartment, looking for what? Money? Drugs? What?" Captain Montgomery said.

"As far as we can tell, Darcy was clean." Ryan said.

At that moment Esposito arrived on the scene carrying with him a file.

"We got a hit on the first victim's prints." he informed us. "INS database."

Esposito handed the file over to Beckett who opened it and quickly looked through it.

"Jamal Buonsi?" She said.

"Nigerian national." Esposito said. "Entered the U.S. On a student visa 18 months ago. He was enrolled at NYU as an exchange student."

"His visa expired a year ago." Beckett remarked.

"Looks like he decided to stay." I added.

"Lucky him." Ryan said sarcastically.

"Any word on his last known whereabouts?" Captain Montgomery asked Esposito.

"Yeah. I was able to track down the family that he lived with." Esposito said. "Last they saw him, he was in a cab on his way to Kennedy."

I noticed Beckett raising an eyebrow as she looked at Esposito.

"I take it that's not the end of the story." She said.

Esposito allowed a small grin the appear on his face. "Turns out that Jamal and their 13 year old son were pretty close." He informed her. "A couple of months ago, the folks discovered that they were still in touch."

Esposito gave Beckett a sheet of paper.

"Jamal's cell number. Billed to an address on East 3rd." He said.

"That's just a few blocks from where Jamal's body was found." I interjected.

"East 3rd's right near Darcy Cho's law firm." Ryan added.

Captain Montgomery turned his attention to Ryan.

"And you said Darcy Cho's law firm did some work on immigration?" He said.

"Yeah." Ryan nodded.

"You and Esposito take a ride down there." He ordered. "I want you to look at Darcy Cho's client list. Maybe Jamal was using another name."

"We'll get a warrant for the billing address." Beckett informed the captain.

"Find out what this guy wants before the son of a bitch kills again, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

XXXXX

_**What do you think of this latest effort? Your thoughts would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The Case of Always Buy Retail

Part 2

It took a little longer to get the warrant signed. Our regular signer of warrants Judge Markway was presiding over a case so was not available to autograph Beckett's warrant. The judge that signed the warrant was a part time member of my Gotham City poker crew which elicited the question from Beckett as to how many judges did I know? Not all that many I informed her but I got the impression she did not believe me.

The billing address on East 3rd turned out to be a run down six storey apartment building. Much to my dismay the elevator was not working and we were forced to climb up six floors. By the the time we reached the second floor I was getting less than subtle reminders from my body that it had been some time since I last visited a gym.

Nearing the top floor I could no longer hold back the complaint that had been itching to find voice.

"I wasn't expecting a doorman building." I huffed. "But a six storey walk-up?"

"You should have seen my first apartment." Beckett replied. "Three flights up, on an airshaft over a restaurant. Whole place smelled like chicken wings."

These was a note of amusement in her voice that did not escape my notice. I was not sure whether she found my complaint amusing or was amused by her quick trip down memory lane. Thankfully I did not collapse in a heap at her feet with a heart attack. That would show her. Memo to self, start going to the gym again, asap.

The stairs came to an end at a door which Beckett pushed open and stepped out onto a rooftop courtyard. I followed her. As rooftop gardens go this one left a lot to be desired. While the view of the Big Apple was pretty good, the surrounds were spoiled by a clothesline where various articles of clothing were hanging off it drying. To one side there was a rather large pigeon coup where a number of birds sat on perches cooing contentedly. There was a set of worn out plastic furniture that comprised of a table, several mismatched chairs and one lounge chair.

Ahead was a ramshackle after thought of a building. It certainly would not have been on the architect's original plans for the building. Beckett slowly made her way towards the building.

"They come here looking for a new start, and this is what they get? Slum housing?" I said as I looked around the courtyard.

"Still for some, it's better than what they left." Beckett replied.

Beckett was right about that. I have met a few people who have come from some war torn places around the globe, and their harrowing stories made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

We reached the door. From within we heard muffled voices and music. We exchanged a look.

"Sounds like Jamal did not live alone." I remarked in a low voice.

Beckett stepped up to the door and knocked on it. Almost immediately the music was turned down and the voices were silenced. Beckett waited but no one answered. She knocked on the door again, this time a little louder.

The door was opened and an anxious looking African man aged in his early twenties peered out. From where I was standing I saw two other men standing behind the guy who opened the door.

"Yes?"

Beckett produced her badge and held it up. "Detective Beckett NYPD."

A look of alarm appeared on the man at the door and tried to slam it shut. He was a touch too slow. Beckett manoeuvred herself between the door and the jam. The man released the door and jumped back just as Beckett burst into the place with her gun drawn.

"Hands! Show me your hands!" Beckett yelled as she pointed her gun at the frightened men.

Their hands reached for the sky. The men started speaking in some foreign language and the word 'Immigration' or what sounded like it was tossed between them.

"I'm not Immigration." Beckett informed them. "Everybody relax, okay?"

Beckett moved further into the room and seeing that she had the situation under control I made my entry. To describe the place a hovel would be a little generous. There was hardly much room, a pair of twin beds seemed to fill the entire space, there was a small table and a couple of crates that served as chairs. The three men were seated on one of the beds. I began to inspect the place.

"If you're not Immigration, who are you?" One of the men asked.

"I'm police, homicide." Beckett said. "I'm looking for information on Jamal Buonsi."

"We don't know any Jamal." The talkative member of the trio replied.

"Then you want to tell me why his cell phone is billed to this address?" Beckett demanded.

The talkative member of the trio and his two companions did not reply, they just looked at each other. I was looking at the unoccupied bed when something caught my attention. Moving closer I saw a piece of red flannel cloth peeking out from under the bed.

"Detective." I said.

I pulled out the flannel cloth.

"Some red flannel." I informed her.

As I pulled out the cloth further there came with it a bag. I opened the bag and dumped its contents on the bed. Paraffin candles and a glass bowl tumbled onto the bed. Beckett drew her gaze from the men she was guard to look at my discovery. She turned back to the men.

"Whose bed is that?" Beckett demanded.

The three men looked at each other but none of them spoke. That was a big mistake which they quickly soon found out. A couple of quiet words from Detective Beckett and those guys sitting on the bed could not point the finger of the owner of the bed quick enough. Who says the art of gentle persuasion is dead? Detective Beckett has a black belt in it.

XXX

Beckett and I were sitting in the interrogation room on one side of the table. On the table were arrayed the items I had found in the apartment. Sitting on the other side of the table was the guy whose companions had fingered. He was nervous looking. His name was Azi. I would tell you his surname but I would be here for a few hours, and don't ask me to pronounce it either. Let's just call him Azi for simplicity's sake. He was a Nigerian national on a visa.

Like I said, he was looking nervous, worried about what was going to happen to him.

"We can link the red flannel to two murders." Beckett informed him. "In this country, that puts you in a lot of trouble."

"I've done nothing wrong." Azi replied with all the dignity he could summon.

"Two people are dead. One of them is a man you lived with."

From her folio Beckett pulled out a photo of Jamal's crime scene and showed it to Azi. Azi eyes widened in shock at what he saw on the photo.

"Same red flannel, same candles." Beckett pointed out.

Azi looked upset but did not say anything. Beckett produced a photo of Darcy Cho's crime scene and showed it to him.

"And again here." She said. "Why did you kill her, Azi?"

"I don't know this woman." Azi declared. "I haven't killed anyone."

Beckett leaned back in her chair and regarded Azi carefully.

"So, you're telling me that it's all just coincidence that these things were found in your apartment, under you bed?"

"They weren't mine!" Azi said forcefully. "They were for someone else!"

"Who?" Beckett demanded.

Azi did not respond to Beckett's question. She leaned forward in her chair.

"Do you want to go back to Nigeria?" She asked. "Because I can arrange that with a single call."

Azi lifted his eyes and looked at Beckett.

"So can he." He said in a low voice.

Beckett turned to look at me. We exchanged a look. Keeping the flannel cloth and candles for someone else was something that either of us had not considered. What also caught my attention was what Azi said in reply to the threat of being sent back to Nigeria. He had looked very frightened when he told us about the man he was keeping the stuff for. Beckett had caught it as well.

"Who?" Beckett said. When Azi did not respond she changed tack. "Jamal was your friend, wasn't he?"

Azi nodded his head. "Yes."

"Then don't you want us to catch who killed him? Don't you want justice?"

Azi did not respond immediately. He looked at Beckett and then to me as if he was considering what to say. His gaze drew back to Beckett.

"His name is Charles. Charles Oni." Azi announced.

"Charles Oni?" Beckett repeated.

Azi nodded his head. "Immigrants know this man." He said. "He owns the places where we live. He owns the places where we work."

"And what about Jamal? Did he work for him too?" I asked.

Azi nodded his head again. "At his stall in Canal Street. But it was only temporary. He was going to save his money to...to apply for a visa. To become legal."

"And Oni had a problem with that?" I said.

"No. Yesterday, when Oni came looking for Jamal, he said Jamal had taken something." Azi said. He paused and lifted his head a little as he looked at us. "But Jamal was not a thief. But Oni insisted. He knew my father was a priest of our village, so he made me to show him how to invoke the spirits."

"What did Jamal take?" Beckett asked.

"Oni did not say."

"Why didn't you ask him?"

"Because I was scared." Azi replied. "Because he would have killed me. The only reason I'm telling you this now is because Jamal was a friend. He did not deserve to die like that." Azi waved his hand at Jamal's crime scene photo. "Oni was wrong."

After getting Azi's statement down on paper Beckett left him in the interrogation room.

On returning to the bullpen Beckett immediately set about checking out Azi's story. I took up my usual station in the chair beside her desk and lent her my usual support. I pulled out my phone and resumed playing the game of Angry Birds I had been playing previously. I will hasten to say that I was not just playing Angry Birds. There were pauses in the game to go get coffee from the break room.

Returning from the break room after the second coffee run I sat down beside Beckett's desk and turned my attention to the murder board. Beckett was leaning against the side of the desk beside me. I noted in my absence Beckett had updated it with the information Azi had supplied.

"City records show no vendor's licenses for Charles Oni on Canal Street." Beckett said consulting the notes she had made on her pad.

"Well the guy's exploiting illegals." I replied. "I doubt he's going to use his real name."

"Clearly not." Beckett agreed. "The apartment is owned by a Robert Burnett. No listing in the Tri-State area and the address is a PO box in Jersey."

Esposito and Ryan returned from their journey to Darcy Cho's law firm and they came over to us to report in.

"The Law firm's a dead end." Esposito said. "They've never heard of Jamal Buonsi, and there was nothing suspicious in Darcy's client list."

"That's perfect, because our suspect has never heard of Darcy Cho." I replied. "We still have no idea what our two victims have in common."

Our attention was drawn to a commotion near the lifts.

"No, I'm not going to wait downstairs. Do you have any idea who pays your salary? Me and my taxes."

Have you ever had one of those moments when you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole? The affronted voice of ex-wife Number One had me wishing for that very thing. I closed my eyes with impending dread.

"Is that...?" Beckett said to me.

"Uh, yep." I replied in a low voice as I rose to my feet, turning to confront the Titian haired whirlwind that was about to hit.

Ex-wife Number One loaded up with numerous shopping bags was being waylaid by a uniformed officer. The thought that I would not be too perturbed if he used a baton on her to subdue her crossed my mind, I ashamed to say. Spotting me, she smiled and waved at me.

"Richard! Over here!" Meredith called.

"Deep-fried Twinkie?" Esposito questioned.

"Afraid so." I said out of the corner of my mouth.

On a nod from Beckett, the uniform allowed Meredith to come through and she breezed in, all smiles and plunging neckline and gold necklaces. I forced a smile to my face. I was startled to see that she had Alexis in tow. My darling daughter was a picture of mortification and embarrassment. Maybe the hole in the ground was big enough to accommodate my daughter as well?

"Meredith what a surprise." I said with all the false happiness I could muster.

"I know, isn't it great?" Meredith replied. She looked to Beckett who was standing beside me. "In LA no one just stops by. Don't you just love this town?"

"More and more by the minute." Beckett quipped, casting an amused look in my direction.

I did the unusual, introducing Ryan and Esposito, and leaving the best to last.

"And Detective Beckett." I said.

"Oh Beckett. Your new muse." Meredith said with a smile. "Alexis told me all about you..."

I saw Alexis shoot a horrified look at her mother. The colour of her skin was rapidly beginning to match the colour of her hair. I knew how she felt right at this moment.

"...and I simply had to stop by." Meredith said.

Ex-wife Number One did look Beckett up and down. What was she doing, checking out the competition or something? I really could not believe this was happening.

"You know, I was his inspiration once." Meredith said in a confidential tone to Beckett.

"Were you, now?" Beckett replied, casting another amused look in my direction.

The amusement dancing in her eyes told me in no uncertain terms Beckett was really enjoying this embarrassing moment of mine. I had the distinct feeling I was not going to hear the end of this.

"Still am from time to time." Meredith added, then she looked at me and smiled. "Right, kitten?"

"Kitten?" Beckett said looking at me, unable to hold back the smile. It did not help matters that both Ryan and Esposito were sniggering away like a pair of naughty school boys.

"I had this dream once, only I was naked and far less embarrassed." I said looking at a still smiling Beckett.

You know that feeling that I had, well it became a dead set certainty. I was definitely not going to hear the end of this.

Let me just say this. I never liked the pet name "kitten". 'Honey', 'darling', 'lover', 'stud'—I rather like that one- but kitten? No way, no how did I like it. Yet that was the name Meredith chose to use despite my pleas for her not to. She ignored my pleas. That was the name she had chosen to call me in our more intimate moment so the name stuck. There were times I think she said it in public on purpose.

I hated the name even more now that she had chosen to blurt it out in the middle of the bullpen right in front of Ryan and Esposito, and, oh God, Beckett. Great, just great. I wonder what I would get for justifiable homicide?

"Anyway," Meredith continued seemingly unaware of what pain and embarrassment she had caused me. "We were in the neighbourhood and I have a dinner tonight, so I thought I would drop Alexis here instead of schlepping all the way downtown."

As she was talking Meredith caught sight of the murder board, more particularly a certain item stuck to the board.

"Is that SJP's purse?" She asked, pointing to the photograph of the purse that we had found in Darcy Cho's apartment.

"SJP?" Esposito asked.

"Sarah Jessica Parker." Meredith replied.

While ex-wife Number One was busy explaining to the detectives about how Sarah Jessica Parker had a similar purse at the Armani show in Milan and that it was on Fashion Scoop Daily. I looked at Alexis and silently asked her what was her mother doing here. Alexis mouth back 'shopping' pointing to the shopping bags hanging off Meredith's arm.

"Well, actually, this purse belongs to one of our victims." Beckett explained.

"Oh, that is tragic." Meredith said. "More tragic, of course, if it had been the real thing but still..."

"Are you saying this one's fake?" Esposito questioned.

"Well look at the leather and the stitching." Meredith pointed to the photo. "It's totally a knock off. I mean, it's good enough to fool the untrained shopper, but I have a retail eye."

"Canal Street." Beckett announced suddenly, in one of those light bulb moments that she has sometimes during a case.

"Canal's where they sell the knockoffs, watches, luggage..." Esposito said.

"And handbags." I added.

"Darcy's office is right near Canal." Ryan said. "If she was going to buy a designer knockoff..."

"She might have got it from the stall where Jamal works." I suggested.

"Oni's stall." Beckett declared. "That's what connects our two victims."

All of a sudden Beckett and her team were energised.

"Get a sketch from Azi." Beckett ordered. "Maybe one of the vendors will be able to ID Oni's stall."

"You go it boss." Esposito replied as he and Ryan started moving.

Meredith turned to me and gave me a smile.

"See? I always was your lucky charm." She cooed. "Just think of the things we'll do once I move back?"

I forced a smile to my face as I faked a chuckle. I did not want to think about that. My darling daughter later on described the look on my face as a constipated. I wasted little time in getting out of the precinct. The prospect of being the butt of everyone's jokes did not fill me with any enthusiasm.

Recently when I started writing up this case, the subject of the first meeting of ex-wife Number One was brought up by my beautiful, ever inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life, she mentioned that after I shepherded my near traumatised daughter home, Ryan had brought to her the sketch artist's rendition that Azi had given. Ryan asked as to my whereabouts and was told that I had gone home. He mentioned 'Deep-fried Twinkie', for which came the reply: "I didn't ask". No further information was supplied by my darling wife, despite my best efforts, which I might add included, a tickle monster attack. She declined to spill to spare my blushes but I have not a single doubt they all had a good laugh at my expense. But I digress.

XXX

Having sent Alexis off to bed with a parental admonition not to stay up too late doing homework but knowing full well that my darling daughter would ignore me completely, I retired to my office to work on the Nikki Heat book.

Strung up in the office was a clothes line from where pages of the book were suspended. It's my way of tracking what pages I have edited or are about to edit. I had written about three pages of the next chapter before I finished and turned my attention to the pages on the line pulling one down and started reading it, making a note or mark on the page as I went along. I had barely read three paragraphs when I had to deal with another after affect of Typhoon Meredith.

Enter stage right, Martha Rodgers.

"Why don't you use a corkboard like a normal person." Mother intoned waving at the pages hanging from the clothesline.

"Why don't you knock like a normal person?" I replied.

Mother came up to the desk.

"You know, Meredith kidnapped Alexis from school today."

"And we all paid a hefty ransom." I sighed.

Alexis had told me all about Meredith waltzing into the school informing the principle about the death of her grandfather and then taking Alexis on a shopping spree. Alexis was very sorry about that and also about the visit to the precinct, and was sorry for the embarrassment her mother had caused me. I reassured Alexis that none of it was her fault, and she did not need to apologise for the actions of her mother.

"It's outrageous." Mother declared.

I tried not to grin but I could feel a diva turn coming on. I reminded my mother of a certain touring production of _A Chorus Line_ and how I almost had to repeat fifth grade a result.

"Oh that was different, I was working and trying to be a mother." Mother said dismissively. "I wasn't just waltzing into town like a diva, disrupting everyone's life.

"That's who she is." I pointed out. "You know that."

"Have you considered what it's going to be like having Meredith back in New York? How it's going to affect you?"

"You mean how it's going to affect you?" I said.

"All of us, actually."

"Well, what do you want me to do mother?" I asked. "It's not like I can ban her from New York."

I confess that I did think about investigating that avenue. I had not totally discarded that option either.

"And this whole 'theatre' thing. It's ridiculous." Mother scoffed. Suddenly her tone turned serious. "You know, she hasn't landed a role in months?"

That caught my attention. I lifted up my head and looked at mother and found her nodding her head in confirmation.

"That's right. I made a couple of calls." Mother informed me. "Why do you think she's moving back to New York? She can't get arrested in LA."

"I wonder if she could get arrested in New York" I mused with a grin. "I know people now."

Mother did not think I was taking matter as seriously as I should have. I could tell by the look she gave me before she launched into an impassioned soliloquy.

"And does she honestly think that she's just going to show up with a reel of _According to Jim_ guest spots, and push some real actor aside? Some actor who has...who has dedicated their entire life to the greatest profession in the world? You don't choose the theatre...the theatre chooses you."

There was the Martha Rodgers that I knew and loved. Mother turned to look back at me.

"Why did you marry her anyway?" She asked.

"I don't know, mother. Maybe she reminded me of you." I quipped.

Mother had never been particularly happy with my choice of Meredith but to her credit, when that marriage was reduced to ruined ashes, she had never come out and said 'I told you so'. No, mother was more creative in ways of letting me know about my poor choices in spouses. All the same, Mother does come out now and then with 'why did you marry her anyway?' The best answer I have ever been able to come up with is the same response Mr Spock's father, Sarek gave to Spok when asked why his father married his mother; it seemed the logical thing to do.

XXXXX

_**I would like to know what you thought of this particular effort.**_

_**Con **_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The Case of Always Buy Retail

Part 3

The following morning Beckett picked me up from the front of the loft and battled through traffic for Canal Street. Beckett informed me that she had sent the boys off to get the search warrant and they would be meeting us at the stall.

Finding a parking spot was not all that easy but we eventually did, a little way off from Canal Street so we had to hoof it to our destination. As we walked along the street passing stalls that were selling all manner of things I noticed in the distance Esposito and Ryan were standing beside a stall inspecting purses. From what I could see it seemed an intense looking conversation. I nudged Beckett and pointed them out. She gave me an amused look before she shook her head.

"You ladies picking out something pretty for yourselves?" I inquired as Beckett and I reached the boys.

Esposito dropped the purse he had been inspecting just moments before and shot me a glare. That only made me grin a little more.

"You got the warrant?" Beckett asked Esposito.

Esposito still scowling opened his jacket to reveal the warrant sticking out of inside pocket.

"Which one is it?" He asked her.

Beckett led the way to shuttered stall a short distance down. Ryan passed his partner the bolt cutters that he had been carrying. He moved to the side ready to lift the metal garage door. Beckett removed her gun and took position in front of the door. She gave a nod to Esposito. Esposito made quick work of the padlock and stepped back as Ryan lifted up the garage door.

All three detectives moved swiftly inside the place. I followed a moment later and stopped in my tracks. The place had been trashed. Boxes had been torn open and their contents spilled, bags had been tossed around. Display cabinets had been smashed, and there were papers strewn everywhere.

There were a number of Chanel bags lying on the ground. They had been shredded.

"This place has been trashed." Esposito remarked, needlessly.

"Guys, same Chanel bags." Beckett said, pointing to the bags on the ground.

"That's weird. Shredded like our victim's purse." I remarked.

"Maybe Darcy wasn't using it to defend herself." Ryan suggested.

While we were discussing this new development Esposito spotted something on the ground. He moved over and pushed aside some papers to reveal another Vodun symbol.

"Beckett." He called out.

Beckett moved over to take a look at what Esposito had found. I went with her to see for myself and Ryan followed.

"This one looks different. It doesn't look like the ones that we found in the other victims' mouths."

She said.

"I've seen this symbol before." I announced. "It's the symbol of death."

"Why would a guy mark his own stall with a death symbol?" Ryan asked.

"He wouldn't. The symbol was meant for him." I replied. "Charles Oni has been marked for death."

Within half an hour the stall was swarming with uniforms and a team from CSU gathering up evidence.

While Beckett and the boys were discussing the significance of finding the linings of all the Chanel bags cut and realising that the bags would be a perfect delivery system for a smuggler my attention was drawn by something across the street. I began to wave my arms in the direction of the shop window and a smile leaped to my face when I saw the result.

Apparently my behaviour caught the attention of Beckett and she started after me but not before she ordered the boys to put Charles Oni's name on the No Fly List.

I crossed the street and walked up to the discount electronics store. In the window of the store there was a large flat screen TV and the vision on the screen was of me.

"Castle!" Beckett called out.

"I'm on TV." I replied, as I turned my head this way and that, checking out what I looked liked on TV.

"Are you having a breakdown?" Beckett inquired of me.

"Not a breakdown, a breakthrough." I said. "And I really am ruggedly handsome."

As I turned my head sideways I caught sight of Beckett rolling her eyes at me.

"I'm waiting for the breakthrough." She replied crisply.

I pointed to the TV.

"Look behind me." I said. "If that camera is recording..."

Beckett turned her head to look across the street from whence we came and then turned back to me. I could see that she was on my wave length.

"Then we'd be able to see who trashed the stall." She announced.

Beckett gave me a small nod before she stepped to the front door and entered the store. After one quick last look at my image on the TV I followed her. The store was not overly large and was crammed to the rafters with all sorts of audio visual equipment. The store manager was a tall man, bald, aged in his early thirties with a friendliness and disposition of a used car salesman.

"What can I say? People like to see themselves on television." The manager said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, you would not believe the things people do in front of the camera."

"I'm listening." I said to the guy, taking a step towards him.

"Like this one chick, she's standing there, right in front of the store and she starts to take off her..."

"Just show us the recordings from the past couple of days, okay?" Beckett said grumpily.

"Her blood sugar gets low, she gets a little cranky." I told the store manager in a confidential tone.

Beckett turned and levelled one of her looks at me. "Zip it, kitten." she said humourlessly.

I had been wondering when I would start to be on the receiving end of the jibes. I was a little surprised it had taken this long for Beckett to to let fly. I admired her restraint but did not admire her discretion or lack of. Did she really have to say that word in public? In front of the camera store guy?

"I'm sorry, but I can't show you the recording." Camera store guy said.

"You need a warrant?" Beckett asked him.

"Wouldn't help. Sold it."

"Sold the camera in the window?" I asked.

Camera store guy nodded his head.

"Some guy rolls in yesterday, asked for that one specifically. I told him we got others, ones with boxes. But he wants the one in the window."

"What does he look like?" Beckett asked him.

Camera store guy paused a moment to think.

"Six foot, big, black. Had an accent." He replied.

Beckett pulled out the sketch of Charles Oni and showed it the store manager.

"Was this him?"

"No. he owns the stall across the street."

"You know him?" I said motioning to the sketch.

"We say hi. But this guy...he seemed...heavy. Not in the physical sense. Just something about him, you know? Like he'd seen things, bad things."

"What else?" Beckett asked.

"He paid cash. Retail. I mean, at my prices? He didn't even try to negotiate once."

"Would you be willing to sit with a police sketch artist?" Beckett said.

"Wouldn't a real picture be better?" Camera store guy replied.

A frown creased Beckett's face as she looked at the store manager.

"You said he took the camera and the recording."

Camera store guy smirked as he waved his hand around his store.

"Lady, this is an electronics store." He said. "I got cameras all over the place."

Beckett and I obtained a copy of the mystery man. He certainly looked like a mean looking dude. He was aged in his mid thirties with shark eyes and a scar across his left cheek. In the picture he was dressed in an army surplus jacket. Definitely not someone you wanted to meet in a dark alley I concluded.

We met up with Ryan and Esposito across the street. Beckett showed the boys the picture of the mystery guy.

"Yeah, he looks like the kind of guy who'd paint a death symbol on your floor." Esposito remarked as he gave the photo back to Beckett.

"What I don't get is, why would he want the camera?" I asked.

"Because he had the same idea we had." Ryan replied.

"But what was he looking for?" Beckett questioned.

"And what was inside those purses?" Esposito added.

All good questions I have to say. Our brainstorming session was interrupted by the sudden ringing of Esposito's phone. He answered it.

"...yeah, really? When? No, no. Absolutely. Bring him in." Esposito said and then rang off. There was a small triumphant smile on his face when he looked at us.

"TSA just pulled Charles Oni out a security line at JFK off our sketch."

"Where was he going?" I inquired.

"Nigeria, under the name of Robert Burnett." Esposito supplied.

XXX

Once more Beckett and I found ourselves in the interrogation room and sitting across from us a defiant looking Charles Oni. He was, as you can well imagine, less than pleased at being pulled out the line for his plane and being deposited her in this interrogation room.

Oni declared that he did not know what Beckett was talking about when she fired a few questions at him about Jamal and Darcy Cho. He claimed that he was flying home to visit his family.

I almost laughed and shook my head at him for this charade he was trying to pull. I mean some suspects think that the police are really that dumb. Well he was about to have his eyes opened. Over to you, Detective Beckett.

"Then why did you only have a one-way ticket?" Beckett asked.

"My mother is ill." Oni replied. "I did not know when I'd be returning."

"Must be nice, being able to see your mother." I mused aloud as I looked at Oni. "It's something that Jamal Buonsi will never get a chance to do."

Beckett opened her folio and took out the photos of Jamal and Darcy and lay them out in front of Oni for him to see. Oni stared at the photos for a moment before lifting his gaze.

"We know that you were involved in both murders." Beckett said as she stared at Oni. "Azi, the man you intimidated into finding Jamal, he's very eager to testify against you."

"Apparently, he takes his religious beliefs very seriously." I added smoothly. "Doesn't believe Vodun should be used to kill people."

"I didn't kill anyone." Oni insisted.

"Then why were you looking for Jamal?" Beckett asked him.

Oni looked at Beckett for a moment but remained silent. Beckett leaned back in her chair and regarded Oni.

"Tell me something. What's in the purse?" She said.

That question made Oni look up suddenly. He could not hide the look of surprise on his face.

"What are you smuggling, Mr Oni?" She asked him.

"I want a lawyer." Oni demanded.

Beckett asked him if he was sure he wanted a lawyer. Telling him that if he got a lawyer he would be out there in about an hour but she would make sure that he would not be able to leave town. And that was what he wanted, to leave town, wasn't it. Beckett said that he scared a lot of people, immigrants, illegals. Then she paused as she stared at Oni.

"Tell me..." Beckett produced a third photo and set it out in front of Oni. It was the photo of the sinister looking mystery man. "Who scares you?"

Oni glanced down at the photograph and I saw the flicker of fear in Oni's eyes. Beckett saw it too.

"I do not know this man." Oni said quickly.

"He knows you." I told him. "Matter of fact, he's marked you for death."

Beckett and I could see that Oni was shaken by the news of him being marked for death. His arrogant, defiant look he had worn at the start of the interview had been ripped away and what was left was a very scared man. A scared man who had been trying to get away. Beckett moved in for the kill—pardon the pun.

"Jamal worked for you and he's dead." Beckett told him pointing to Jamal's picture. She then pointed to Darcy's photo. "Darcy Cho just bought a purse from you and now she's dead. Why?"

"I wont talk without protection." Oni declared.

"I can't protect you unless you tell me from what." Beckett volleyed back.

Oni looked down at the table. He was silent for a few moments, as if he was thinking over his options. Realising that he really did not have any options, he drew a breath, lifted his head and spilled.

He said the mystery man's name was Mukhtar Baylor. He was a very bad man and very dangerous. He was a former child soldier. There were some who called him the Butcher of Benin.

"What's he doing in the US?" Beckett asked him.

"He traffics. Drugs. Women, whatever will make him money." Oni said. "It is him that killed Jamal and the woman."

"Why?"

That was the Sixty-four thousand dollar question. Both Beckett and I were eager to hear the answer. Oni fell silent trying to do an impersonation of a statue. I watched him and saw that he was weighing his options again. Reaching a decision he turned to look at Beckett.

"If I tell you, will you protect me?" He said.

Beckett turned to look at me, almost as if she was silently asking me what I thought. Sure we now had a name to go with the face and we also knew that he was the killer but what we did not know was why he had killed Jamal and Darcy. Knowing Beckett, she wanted to know why those people had been killed. I too wanted to know why those people had been killed. I gave a her an imperceptible nod of the head, as if to say; 'might as well, we've got nothing to lose'.

Beckett turned back to Oni and agreed to his demand.

XXX

After getting Oni's statement down on paper and especially the information that he bargained protection for things ratcheted up a notch or three. We started gathering our things and began to make our way to the elevator. Captain Montgomery joined our group so that we could fill him in on what he had learned.

"Oni's a counterfeiter." Beckett informed the captain.

"And he gets papers for illegals." I added. "Passports, visas, whatever they need. A real friend to the community."

"Oni also provided Baylor with documents for his traffickers." Esposito supplied.

"Sewn into the linings of his purses?" Captain Montgomery said.

"Yeah, which he keeps at the back of his stall." Esposito confirmed.

"Only he didn't count on Fashion Scoop Daily." Ryan added.

"The website?" Montgomery said with a little surprise.

"Yeah. The article on Sarah Jessica Parker? Appears there was a run on the purses." Ryan informed the captain.

"Our first vic, Jamal?" Esposito said. Montgomery nodded his head. "He sold bags out the front. He didn't know about Oni's scam. When he ran out of bags, he sold the ones from the back."

We arrived at the elevator. Ryan punched the down button and waited for the car to arrive.

"Why didn't he just get Oni to forge more documents?" Captain Montgomery asked.

"It takes time, and Baylor doesn't have time." I said.

"The papers are for Baylor's brother." Beckett added. "The Nigerian officials are closing in on him for drug trafficking. If Baylor doesn't get him to the US soon, they'll execute him."

The elevator arrived and when the doors slid open we began to pile in.

"Oni says Baylor operates out of a warehouse downtown." I said to the captain who remained outside of the elevator.

"Listen, find this dirtball before he murders someone else, alright?" Captain Montgomery.

Beckett gave the captain a salute just as the doors of the elevator closed.

We arrived at the location of the warehouse. Waiting for us was a black van filled with several Tactical Unit members from the Emergency Services Unit. The SWAT guys for those of you not conversant with NYPD lingo. They stepped from out the back of the van in protection vests and mean looking assault weapons which they started checking. Esposito and Ryan got out of their car and began to don their vests.

The moment Beckett pulled up she got out of the car and moved to the trunk and popped it open. I got out and joined her. She noticed the large paper bag sitting in the trunk next to her vest.

"Where did that bag come from?" She asked.

"Oh, sorry that's mine." I informed her. "I felt, given everything that's happened, I should be prepared. I got this special order."

Beckett had removed her vest from the trunk and put it on she watched me as I picked up the paper bag.

"And look." I said happily. I would have liked to have had a bit of a fanfare but that was not possible given the time constraints.

I pulled out the vest from the paper bag and proudly held it up for Beckett to see. It was almost identical to the police issue vests except that mine was to my body specifications. The other thing that made it different to the police issue vest was that mine had 'WRITER' emblazoned across it.

I had been thinking about getting myself a vest for some time now. Beckett would not let me wear one the police issue ones for obvious reasons, I was not a cop. So I did the next best thing. I specially ordered a vest of my own.

While having my own vest was cool, at least I thought so. It would also make me feel a little bit more a part of Beckett's team. There was a practical reason I had gotten myself a vest. Police work can be dangerous. In my background researching for the Nikki Heat book I had read a far too long list of police officers who had died in the line of duty, not only here in New York but right across the country. I had bought the vest so that I could go home to family at night relatively unscathed.

"Cool, huh?" I said to Beckett, excitedly.

"No, not cool." Beckett said, glaring at me. She snatched the vest from my hands and threw it into the back seat of her car. "You don't need a vest."

"If you shoot me, do I not bleed?" I said, paraphrasing Shakespeare.

I live with a theatre diva, you don't think I would not quote or paraphrase the Bard from time to time?

"You're not going to get shot. And do you know why?" Beckett said as she fixed her vest in place. "Because you are not going nowhere near the gunfire. You're staying here."

"Yes, we've seen how well that works." I said with a laugh.

Beckett levelled a look at me that was somewhere between a warning and a plea to listen to her.

"Stay here, Castle," She said, "and don't do anything."

She left me standing by her car and marched across to where the boys and the TAC unit guys were congregating. From out of her pocket she pulled out the picture of Baylor and held it up for all the guys to study.

"Alright, this is our guy." She said. "Got him?"

There were murmurs and nods of assent from all the assembled men.

"Let's go." She ordered.

I have to tell you there is a kind of sexiness in watching Beckett as she takes command of a situation just like this very one. Leading men into battle, so to speak, like Queen Boudica or an Amazon from ancient Greek Mythology. I don't think she knows how hot she is. There are some of us mere mortal men that would follow her anywhere.

Speaking of which, once the TAC guys burst through the door and were followed by Beckett and the boys into the warehouse, I raced over and retrieved my vest from the back seat of her car and threw it on. There was no way I was going sit out this particular dance.

I reached the door and peered in. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the warehouse I could make out the TAC guys moving slowly through the place passing oil drums and shelves stacked with machine parts. Beckett and the boys were also moving slowly checking everything.

I stepped through the door and quickly and silently made my way toward where Beckett and the boys were. I could certainly feel the tension from everyone. I could understand it. We all knew that Baylor was someone who preferred to shoot first and ask questions later. There were any number of places he could have been hiding just waiting for the right moment to spring his attack.

So there I was wearing my new Writer vest and creeping quietly behind the guys in the warehouse. I was not going to miss out on the fun. When it comes to fun I have to be right in the middle of it.

Taking another step forward I suddenly was frozen to the spot when I received an incoming text message.

"_Dad! Dad! Dad!_" A message from Alexis.

Talk about an embarrassing moment. Big rookie mistake that. I had forgotten to turn off my phone before walking into the warehouse. It was a pretty unsettling feeling to find more that a few guns pointed at you. Thankfully, these guys are highly trained and my vest was not given a road test.

Pulling out my phone I saw the message: "911! Call home ASAP!"

I looked up to find a glaring Beckett staring at me.

"I got to take this." I whispered.

"Go!" She hissed back

"Sorry." I said before I turned and quickly scuttled out of the warehouse.

A 911 text from your daughter requires an immediate response. Having recovered from the shock of almost being used as target practice by some of New York's Finest, concern immediately switched my daughter. I dialled home.

Expecting the call to be answered by my darling daughter imagine my surprise that instead of my daughter on the end of the line it was ex-wife Number One. Meredith was eager to speak to me because she had found herself an apartment, or as she described it 'A perfect place, it's light, spacious and only a million six.' I was having trouble wrapping my head around it, my mind still thinking there was some kind of emergency with my daughter. Meredith said she had sent that message because it was the only way I would call back to speak to her.

I was less than impressed with her subterfuge and a lot less impressed when I realised that she was calling from the loft. I did not get the chance to admonish her for going to my loft because Meredith breezed past that and said that she needed me to co-sign the loan for the apartment. I reminded her that we were divorced and I was not going to so-sign any loan. Meredith then reminded me that the apartment was for Alexis too even though it was only one bedroom.

As you can well understand this was not the time or place to discuss this matter with my ex-wife.

"Look, can I call you back?" I said. "I'm right in the middle of capturing a very dangerous Nigerian drug lord. It's kind of a thing."

I should have hung up right there and then but I didn't. I was half listening to Meredith when I spotted a SUV drawing slowly up to the gates of the warehouse. I recognised the guy behind the wheel. It was our guy!

Baylor spotted me standing there in my vest and the unmarked police cars in the courtyard of the warehouse and he did the only thing he could do. He floored the SUV and sped off down the road. I watched him speed off before I turned back to the warehouse and started shouting, trying to get the attention of the guys inside. I dashed back and forth, shouting and carrying on.

"Are you listening to me?" Came the voice of Meredith.

I came to a stop and stood there watching the SUV vanish around the corner.

"This is going to bite me in the ass." I moaned as I cut off Meredith.

XXX

This was another one of those moments where I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. I stood before Beckett and the boys, all three were not looking impressed.

"What do you mean, you didn't get a plate?" Beckett said, rolling her eyes at me.

"Uhh...there was a...It was coming..." I stammered.

"What kind of car was it?" Esposito fired at me.

"Umm it was big. It was a SUV, I think." I said.

"You think?" Esposito glared.

"What about the colour?" Ryan asked.

"Uh..black...umm...dark blue." I said hesitantly.

As you can see this was not one of my finest hours.

"It's very hard being a witness." I complained. "I don't know how you guys ever get a conviction."

For that I received three sets of glares.

"I'm usually really good with the detailed stuff." I offered in my defence. That did not wash with Beckett, who just shook her head.

"I...I got distracted." I whined.

"Yeah, you're rolling calls during a TAC strike." A roll of her eyes punctuated that statement.

"Interesting." Esposito murmured, still glaring at me.

"He was supposed to be in the building!" I said, in defence of my actions, or lack of.

"What about the colour of your shirt?" Ryan inquired. "What is it right now? Is it black or blue? I couldn't quite tell. The sun was in my eyes."

That remark from Ryan got laughs from his partners. If I was not feeling so miserable I would have told him not to give up his day job. I really did feel bad at the thought of letting the guys down, of letting Beckett down.

I should have felt bad, here I was the master of the observation and I could not describe the vehicle that Baylor was driving, and I could not get the plate numbers. True enough I was distracted by the call with Meredith but that really was not excuse. Ex-wife Number One slipped a few more rungs down my ladder of estimation.

As you might expect the boys revelled in my misery, the jokes flew thick and fast. I could do nothing but take it which I did with what shred of dignity I had left, which wasn't much. Beckett came to my rescue seeing that I had taken enough ribbing for one day and called a halt to the joking, reminding us that we still had to inspect the warehouse. I gave her a look of gratitude as we headed into the warehouse.

Beckett was the first to enter the warehouse office. The boys followed her and I brought up the rear. The room was creepy. There were various symbols painted on the walls, some of which I recognised and others I had no idea what they meant. There were bolts of red flannel cloth on a shelf while on another shelf there were glass bowls, jars filled with some liquid that I could not identify. There was also a pretty large collection of knives and other weapons.

"Weird." Esposito said in a low voice as he took in the office.

"Really weird." Ryan added.

Esposito moved over to the shelves and picked up a bolt of the red flannel.

"It's the same red flannel." He remarked after inspecting the bolt.

Beckett had moved over to the desk and I stood beside her as she inspected the stuff on the desk.

Ryan had moved across to a bench and inspected it He frowned on seeing the bench covered with yoga brochures and schedules.

"Hey." Ryan called out, holding up a brochure. "Vodun guy's a yoga nut."

"Well because you're a cold blooded killer, doesn't mean you don't care of yourself." I quipped.

Ryan let out a chuckle and dropped the brochure back on the.

Beckett finished her quick inspection on top of the desk. She pulled out a drawer and rummaged through its contents. Pulling aside some files

"Guys." She called out. She lifted up a video camera for all of us to see. "The camera from the electronics store."

I could not help but flash a grin at Beckett.

"See? Not a complete bust." I told her.

Beckett levelled a glare at me.

I can not begin to tell you how relieved I was that we found something to salvage from had been a bust.

I thought I might have been forgiven for my earlier less than stellar performance. Well I was wrong in thinking that. No sooner had Beckett and I gotten into her car and headed back to the precinct than she let me have it. I felt like the naughty school boy being told off by his favourite teacher. I did feel really bad for letting her down and I apologised rather profusely for a fair way of the ride back. I did explain the reasons for my below par observations skills was because I had been distracted by Meredith. I told Beckett about Meredith wanting me to co-sign her loan. I did not get the sympathy I that I felt I deserved. Once again Beckett sided with Alexis, reminding me again that maybe, just maybe Alexis might like to have her mother living close by instead of the other side of the country. I realised that I was not going to get Beckett on my side in this matter and just accepted the scolding that was directed at me.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts would be appreciated, dear reader.**_

_**Con **_


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The Case of Always Buy Retail

Part 4

We returned to the precinct and headed straight to the room off the bullpen that was filled with audio visual equipment. It was called the tech room but basically it was a small conference room that had been converted to an audio visual room. Esposito quickly hooked up the camera to one of AV machines and sat down at the control panel and started to scroll through the video tape. The rest of us grabbed what few chairs were available. As there were only two others, Beckett and I claimed them and Ryan was left to stand behind us.

We scrolled through the tape. There was the usual passing parade of natives of this city that I love, Caucasians, Hispanics, Blacks, Asians, a pair of Hasidic Jews strolled past deep in conversation. Some people stopped to see themselves, waving at the camera, some paused to peer through the window oblivious to the fact they were on television. I'm afraid to report there was no girl lifting up her top to flash her...umm...assets.

I could see that Esposito and Ryan were a little disappointed about that as well. I may have mentioned to the boys about what Camera Store Guy had said about what some people do in front of the camera.

In the background we all saw Jamal at the stall.

"There's Jamal." I said.

"And Darcy Cho." Beckett added a moment later when we saw the second victim come to the stall and purchase a purse.

Esposito scrolled through the tape quickly fast forwarding it. The vision was moving so quickly that I almost missed it.

"Whoa, Whoa." I shouted. "Go back, go back."

Esposito twirled the knob on the controller and the tape wound back and then stopped.

"A little more." I requested.

The rewinding stopped and the vision resumed at normal speed. On the screen there was a woman aged in her early thirties, dressed in workout clothes with a yoga mat slung over her shoulder and a take out coffee cup in her hand standing at the stall. The woman buys one of the Chanel bags from Jamal.

"Looks like someone else apart Darcy bought a bag from Jamal." Ryan remarked.

"And she's carrying a yoga matt." I pointed out.

"That's why he bought the camera." Beckett declared. "Baylor's looking for her. He wants his passport, so he's hunting down everyone that bought a purse."

"Eight million people in this city. He'll never find her." Ryan scoffed.

"He found Darcy Cho." I reminded Ryan. "He'll find her."

"Not if we find her first." Beckett announced, a note of determination in her voice. "Zoom in on her hand."

Esposito twiddled a knob, hit a key or two on the computer console and the on the screen enlarged and zeroed in on the woman's hand which was holding the coffee cup.

"She's got a coffee from Java Loft." Beckett said.

"So?" Esposito said, not really understanding that she had found a clue.

Beckett turned away from the TV screen to look at Esposito.

"So, we're looking for a yoga studio, near a Java Loft, somewhere off Canal Street." She explained.

"Gotta be a dozen possibilities." Ryan pointed out. "Baylor's got a head start."

I broke into a big smile as I pulled out my phone.

"Yes, but I've got this awesome new plan." I said as I started tapping away on my phone.

Beckett looked at Ryan and Esposito.

"We're looking for Yoga Girl." She informed them. "You guys see if anyone else bought that bag."

Ryan and Esposito nodded their heads.

While I was still tapping away on my phone Beckett printed out a screen capture of Yoga Girl.

With the picture of Yoga Girl fresh off the printer Beckett and I were out of the tech room and walking through the bullpen heading for the elevator.

"There are four Java Lofts within five blocks of Canal Street." I informed Beckett.

"And yoga studios?" Beckett asked.

Quickly I consulted my phone.

"Time stamp on the video was 3.22." I said. "We're looking for a yoga studio nearby with a class that ended about three o'clock."

Beckett shot me a quizzical look.

"Maybe the woman was on her way to yoga class."

"You ever try doing a half moon pose cranked up on caffeine?" I said to Beckett. "Completely throws off your chi. Trust me."

You may be wondering how I know that. Well, there may have been a time when I did a bit of yoga, attended a few classes. There was this girl I had been dating and she was really into it. I learned a thing or two, one of which was not to have a coffee before attending a yoga class. But I digress.

"So, a class finishing around 3pm would give her enough time to buy a coffee..." Beckett mused aloud as we reached the elevator. The doors were open and we stepped in.

"But not enough time to finish it before Canal Street." I finished for her Beckett. A final tap on my phone and ta da! I had the information. "Got it." I announced proudly. Beckett leaned over to see my phone as the doors to the elevator closed on us.

XXX

Beckett and I strolled into the Blissful Buddha yoga studio. I could not help but wonder where they get the names from. I did not bother to voice that question because Beckett was in full on cop mode. She marched up to the reception desk where the manager of the establishment standing. Beckett badged the woman and then slapped a photo of Yoga Girl onto the counter asking the manager if she she knew who this woman was.

The manager supplied us with Yoga Girl's name, Diana Edwards and then asked what Diana had done because Beckett was the second cop who had been asking about her. Beckett looked at me and we both shared a feeling of dread. Baylor had been here. The manager then mentioned that the first cop had only left a few minutes ago.

The urgency levels went a couple of notches. Beckett demanded Diana Edwards' address from the manager. At first the woman hesitated but was quickly convinced that the first person who had been seeking information on Diana had not been a cop at all, and that we needed to get to Diana before that man did. The yoga studio manager passed over the address, and Beckett and I rushed out of the studio hoping that we would get there in time.

XXX

The elevator deposited us on the floor where Diana Edwards' apartment was located. Beckett flew out of the elevator like a swift moving gazelle and not for the first time did I wonder how she could run so fast and gracefully in those high heels of hers. One of these days I was going to ask her. There was no time for questions like that. Beckett reached Diana's door and started pounding on it.

"Diana Edwards" NYPD! Open Up!" Beckett shouted.

"Can I kick it down?" I asked her hopefully.

"Sorry kitten." Beckett snapped back.

Beckett had to bring that up right now? I could not believe her. Beckett ignored my wounded feelings as she pounded on the door again.

"NYPD!"

The door finally opened before I had a chance to pout at Beckett. Diana Edwards peered at us warily. Beckett flashed her badge.

"Detective Beckett NYPD. Are you Diana Edwards?"

"Yeah." Diana replied.

Beckett pushed her way into the apartment and as per usual I followed her in. Diana protested at this intrusion.

"Is everything okay?" Beckett asked, her eyes sweeping the apartment looking for any sign of something out of place.

"Yeah fine." Diana replied still not understanding what this was all about.

Beckett turned and faced Diana.

"We have video surveillance of you purchasing a Chanel bag on Canal Street two days ago."

"Wow," Diana said with some surprise. "I know you guys are cracking down on the knockoffs, but I..."

"Where's the bag?" I interjected with some concern in my voice.

"Over there." Diana pointed in the direction of her kitchen and in particular to the kitchen island.

Beckett and I moved swiftly over to the kitchen island, Diana followed us. Beckett grabbed the bag and searched it. She tore open the lining. Diana began to complain. Beckett ignored the protests. She pulled out a passport and held it up for me to see. I gave Beckett a 'well done' nod of the head.

"What's going on?" Diana demanded.

I turned to look at the still confused Diana Edwards.

"You are a very lucky lady." I told her.

"I don't understand, am I in trouble?"

"No." I assured her. "But from now on, always buy retail."

Beckett reached into her jacket and pulled out her phone and dialled. She turned her back to the front door as the call was quickly answered.

"Detective Beckett." She barked into the phone. "I need a unit at 91st and Broadway at the apartment..."

Beckett did not get the chance to finish the sentence. As she was speaking into the phone I happened to glance in the direction of the open door and got the biggest, baddest scare of my life. There was Baylor standing in the doorway, looking very mean and determined. He was raising his gun ready to fire.

I did not stop to think, what happened next was just instinct. I immediately threw myself at Beckett knocking her to the ground just as bullets started flying. Diana Edwards screamed and rushed in the direction of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Beckett recovered from the initial surprise of both being fired at and that I might have probably saved her life, and shouted to Diana Edwards to call 911. She had her gun out and returned fire. Baylor fired back smashing something that might have had some intrinsic value to the owner of the apartment. More gunshots were exchanged.

Beckett and I were able to crawl around to the other side of the kitchen island, Baylor fired some more shots at us. The bullets smashed some other objects on the island and their remnants sprinkled all over us crystalline confetti.

"Give me the passport!" Baylor growled in his deep bass voice.

"Put your weapon down now!" Beckett shouted back.

Baylor's response to that demand was to fire a couple more shots.

"Give me the passport!" He shouted.

"Baylor, any minute now this place is going to be crawling with cops." Beckett called out. "Don't make things worse than they are."

Baylor's response once again was to fire some more shots. Beckett stuck her gun over the counter and squeezed off a couple of rounds.

"Give me what I want and I walk away." Baylor shouted.

Beckett and I were leaning against the kitchen island. I looked over to Beckett and saw the determined look on her face. It was her eyes, however that really gave her away. There was concern in those hazel eyes of hers which she was trying to disguise. I have to admit I was not exactly cool calm and collected right about now. Some one was trying to kill us. My heart was racing faster than I have ever felt it race and I was hoping desperately that Diana Edwards had managed to call 911 to send the cavalry.

I looked at Beckett again.

"I've written this scene about a hundred times." I told her in a low voice. "We give him what he wants, you know what how it ends?"

Beckett shook her head.

"Badly." I said. "And by 'badly', I mean us dead."

It is true, in the past I had written scenes very similar to what was unfolding here in Diana's kitchen. Sometimes it was a scene for a Derrick Storm novel and sometimes it was because I had nothing better to do and had an urgent need to write so I would sit down and say to myself; 'what would happen, if this, and this, and this happened'? Do you know what? All those times it did end up badly. I wasn't lying to Beckett. Baylor was going to kill us.

"Stay down." Beckett said.

"You stay down." I retorted, I will admit there might have been a note of desperation in my voice.

"I can't shoot him from down here." Beckett pointed out.

"Yeah, he can't shoot you either." I replied.

I did not want to see Beckett get shot. I did not want to see my muse shot or worse. As per usual my muse ignored my imprecations and did what she wanted to do. She rose to peek over the counter. Baylor fired a volley of shots that had Beckett ducking down quick smart.

"I can't see him." Beckett said with some frustration.

Silence descended in the apartment and in the silence I heard Baylor changing the magazine in his gun. A moment later he was moving, changing his position. My heart sank at the sound. This situation was going from bad to worse.

With a fresh magazine in his gun and a new position Baylor squeezed off a fresh volley at us. Thankfully they all missed. Beckett checked her weapon and I saw the small frown on her face. I gave her a questioning look.

"I've only got two rounds left." She informed me. "I need a clean shot. I got to get eyes on him somehow."

On hearing that Beckett had only two shots left, I reassessed our situation. Officially we were now in a 'worse' position.

This was one of those moments where I found myself wondering what would my esteemed fictional character Derrick Storm would do. Do you know what? My esteemed fictional character was not able to provide me with any answers. If I had a little time to think about it I would have thought Derrick was keeping silent out of spite because I had killed him off. But I did not have any time to think about such matters.

Well if Derrick wont help us, I would have to do it myself. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. Immediately I started tapping on the screen.

"What's with you and phones?" Beckett asked me.

I did not give her a reply as I moved and raised the phone around the edge of the counter. Baylor fired a couple of shots in my direction but not before I was able to snap a picture of him. I quickly scrambled back behind the island.

"I am not playing games!" Baylor shouted.

I grinned at Beckett as I showed her the photo of Baylor that I had taken. Baylor was standing just behind a column. I am sure that under any other circumstances Beckett would have levelled her patented Death Glare at me for what I had done. This time she didn't. She studied the photo.

"I don't have an angle from down here." She said.

"I will kill you both!" Baylor shouted.

Seriously, Baylor was starting to sound like a B-grade movie bad guy with all that bad dialogue. I don't know about Beckett but I was beginning to find it tiresome.

"Okay. When we shoot, he shoots." I said to Beckett. "He'll be exposed. I'll set the pick, you take him down."

"Set the pick with what?" Beckett inquired.

I was pleased that she was not against the plan of action I had set out. I half expected a bit of an argument from her. The question she posed was a very good one though. How do I set it up? I did not have long to ponder the question because the next moment I found the answer. Under a kitchen bench was a small fridge with a glass door. In the fridge I saw a large bottle of champagne.

With a grin on my face I opened the door and pulled out a bottle of champagne and showed it to Beckett.

"With this." I told her triumphantly.

"You're going to get yourself shot." Beckett replied showing little enthusiasm.

I quickly unwrapped the foil from around the cork.

"Not if you make your shot count." I told her.

"Castle!"

"Just be ready."

I moved slowly to the end of the island as I worked on loosening the cork in the champagne bottle. I glanced over to Beckett and saw that she had gotten into position. I'm sure that she was doing this against her better judgement but she knew that we did not have all that many options. So why not try one of Castle's Crazy Contrivances? Though I'm sure Beckett would call it 'Castle's Dumb Idea.'

"This is your last warning." Baylor called out.

I started shaking the champagne bottle. I glanced at Beckett and saw her give me a nod of her head and a look in her eyes that said seemed to say 'be careful'.

So with my heart in my mouth I started moving.

"Now!" I shouted.

I rose into a half crouch and popped the cork. It made a loud sound and drew Baylor's attention and he fired. Beckett rose up aimed and fired twice at Baylor. He crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I could not believe we had done it. One of my crazy ideas had worked, how about that?

I made my way over to where Beckett was hurriedly cuffing a groaning Baylor. He had taken two shots in the upper torso but he was still a dangerous man I had little sympathy for his current condition. I wiped the top of the bottle I was holding.

"I think deserves a toast." I said as I brought the bottle to my lips.

"Huh." Beckett said.

I saw the look of relief on her face now that the danger had passed and we had out bad guy in cuffs. She even cracked it for a smile. I returned the smile enjoying this shared moment of relief and knowledge we had survived the gun battle. I offered her the bottle. Beckett declined the offer of a sip with a shake of her head. Too bad I shrugged, and grinned. It was good stuff. More for me I thought.

Within minutes Diana Edwards' apartment was swarming with uniforms and paramedics and detectives. I watched Beckett as she took command of the situation. I found a glass flute and poured some champagne into and put down the champagne bottle. I was not really needed in there so I quietly made my way out into the hallway.

I was leaning against the wall reflecting on what had just happened and for that fact that both Beckett and I had managed to walk out of there alive. My quiet reflecting was interrupted by a detective, someone whom I had not seen before, wanting to get my statement. I gave him a statement of what had occurred. I made it sound like an epic tale of good versus evil and with good triumphant. Well it was, basically. I may have given Beckett most of the glory in my retelling of the story. I can't remember now, I'll claim faulty memory and leave it at that.

A short while later the paramedics wheeled out Baylor and Beckett followed them. The paramedics disappeared around the corner. Beckett came to a halt beside me.

"Baylor's going to make it." Beckett informed me.

I nodded my head and took a sip from the glass I was holding.

"You okay, Castle?" Beckett asked, note of concern in her voice.

"My first gun battle." I grinned.

"Your last gun battle." She replied sharply.

"Don't be so pessimistic." I said. "I think I handled myself pretty well."

"Yeah." Beckett agreed, a smile on her face. "Probably saved my life."

"'Probably?'" My eyebrows rose up in astonishment. "I definitely saved your life. And you know what that means, don't you? It means you owe me."

"Owe you what?" Beckett challenged.

"What ever I want."

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head at me. I moved towards her and put on my best seductive, predatory smiles on my face. The kind that could reduce women' knees to jelly. Had made women weak at the knees.

"And you know exactly what I want, don't you?" I had lowered my voice, smooth and seductive as I took another step towards her, waggling my eyebrows. "You know what I really, really want you to do."

I was right in front of her. There was an adorable look on her face a cross between hesitancy and determination not to succumb to my honeyed voice and there was that delightful dusting of blush across her cheeks. I leaned down almost as if I was going to kiss her. Beckett stilled, I don't think she was even breathing.

You may be wondering why I did not kiss Beckett. I had the perfect opportunity, I had her where I wanted her, I hear you say. I had saved her life and I would have been well within my rights to claim a reward. All of that may be true. However I was on another mission. I leaned even closer to her.

"Never...ever..." I purred in her ear, "call me...kitten."

I straightened up and nonchalantly walked around the corner. I was halfway down the hallway when I heard Beckett laughing. I could not help but smile on hearing that wonderful sound.

XXX

It was with relief and no end of happiness when I walked through the front door of the loft. Now that the adrenalin rush of the gun battle had worn off I could look back on it and realise that it was a close run thing. It is a sobering thought to realise that I might not have come home.

During dinner Alexis asked me about my day. I told her how we caught the bad guy. What I did not tell her was how Beckett and I caught the bad guy. I did not want to worry her or give her nightmares. During the story recounting I did catch mother giving me a look. I got the feeling that she knew I wasn't giving them the full story but thankfully she did not pull me up on it.

After dinner I went straight to my office and fired up the laptop. Once it was up and running I started to write. I lost myself in the world of Nikki Heat that I was creating.

"Dad?"

I looked up from the laptop to find my Alexis standing in the doorway of the office.

"Yes, sweetie?" I smiled.

"Hypothetically...is it okay to love someone, but not want them around all the time?" She asked hesitantly.

"You mean Mom?"

"I love her. I do." Alexis insisted.

"I know you do. And I'm glad you do."

"But, Dad...she drives me crazy."

"Yeah, that's what moms do."

"But if she lives here..."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of Meredith's voice. Alexis shot me a pained expression which only made me laugh. I rose from my desk and walked over to where Alexis was standing and steered her into the living room.

"Your secret's safe with me." I whispered to my daughter.

We found an excited looking Meredith standing in the middle of the living room. Meredith's calling had not only attracted Alexis and myself but mother made an appearance in the room wondering what was going on.

Meredith could not contain her news and quickly informed us that she had just received a call from her agent informing her that she had been offered a lead role in a new independent film. We all made suitable congratulatory noises. Ex-wife Number One was disappointed that her plans to move back to New York would have to be put on hold because of this new job.

"Oh how will we ever manage?" Mother remarked in a rather sarcastic tone of voice, though she did keep a straight face.

"It sounds like a huge opportunity." Alexis remarked, trying ever so hard to contain her joy at the news that her mother was not moving to New York after all.

Meredith agreed that was indeed a great opportunity but then added that it was not as if Broadway was going anywhere. She could always do theatre when she got too old for High Def.

Mother turned to me and grimaced after that last remark from Meredith. I almost started laughing in that moment. I didn't though. I maintained a straight face through out it all.

So Meredith made her goodbyes and promises to return to New York soon and I escorted her to the front door. I opened the door for her, a quick kiss and Meredith swept out of our lives for the time being. I wanted to let out a long sigh of relief but I resisted the urge.

I turned around and pulled up short. Both mother and Alexis were standing there staring at me.

"Okay Dad, spill." Alexis demanded.

"What?" I said, trying to look innocent.

My two red haired inquisitors were not buying my look of innocence.

"What did you do?" Alexis asked.

"Nothing."

The inquisitors weren't buying that denial. They gave me each a pointed look that had me confessing.

"Oh, my business manager called with an excellent investment opportunity." I said shrugging my shoulders. "A small artsy independent feature."

It cost me a small fortune but it was worth what ever the cost was. It was worth it not having Meredith living in New York. I don't think I would have survived having her around so close. It would have driven me crazy, and I'm sure it would have driven both Alexis and mother crazy as well. It was bad enough the first time around, I did not want to relive those memories.

"Oh, that's my boy!" Mother chortled with delight.

"Eh...she's perfect for the role. I'm doing them the favour, I think." I turned to Alexis. "I hope you don't mind."

"Raising one parent is hard enough. I don't know what I'd do if I had to raise two." Alexis replied smiling.

I returned the smile and pulled my darling daughter into a big hug. Mother stepped up with a question.

"There wasn't a little part for me in the artsy...?" She asked hopefully.

"No." I said shaking my head.

"No. Alright, no." Mother sighed and then existed stage left.

After releasing my darling daughter from my hug I returned to my office and resumed writing, once more to lose myself in the world of Nikki Heat.

XXXXX

_**So, what did you think of this latest effort of mine? Your thoughts would be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The Case of Home Is Where The Heart Stops

Part 1

They were a nasty crew of home invaders who not only robbed their victims of their expensive pieces of jewellery but enjoyed hurting their victims. But when they had escalated and started to rob people of their lives as well, Beckett and the boys caught the case...

It was evening in the loft and the Castle family were enjoying a little family entertainment. The loft was filled with the kind of melodramatic piano music that was used to underscore silent films. The music was being provided by mother who was giving the piano a good work out. Speaking of workout a pair of swordsmen, or in this case, swordspersons, dressed in full fencing regalia were doing battle around the living room.

The clash of swords filled the air in time to the overly dramatic piano playing.

"You've come to Nottingham once too often." I said in a clipped English accent.

"After today, there'll be no need for me to come again." Replied my opponent, my daughter Alexis.

We lunged, parried, moved, attacked, parried, lunged, defended again for a few moments. As much as I love playing laser tag with my daughter, and I love beating her, I also enjoy the occasional fencing bout with her.

Alexis had taken it up at school as one of her extracurricular activities about a year or so ago and being the eager and enthusiastic dad that I am, I had bought her and myself the full fencing kit and an array of fencing swords so that we could practice at home. Tonight was one of those nights that we chose to fence rather than engage in an epic battle of laser tag. Mother was only too happy to provide the soundtrack.

"You have been holding out on me, Sir Robin." I declared. "I hear you like a boy."

"I knew she'd tell." Alexis replied with a sigh.

"So...who is he?"

"His name is Owen. He's in my poetry class." Alexis informed me. "Very shy. And very sweet."

I could almost see the near dreamy look on my daughter's face. I said almost, she was wearing a protective mask. It was at that moment that I decided to strike. I lunged and landed the blunted point of my sword on her chest.

"Hey!" Alexis complained.

I stepped back and pulled up my mask.

"Keep your guard up." I told her.

Alexis raised her mask and glared at me. "Don't distract me."

"Does he know how you feel about him?" I asked.

"No."

Alexis pulled down her mask and assumed the en guard position. I pulled down my own mask and once more we commenced battle. We moved about the loft clashing swords, each of us seeking a chink in the other's defences. We reached the stairs which I jumped over the railing to escape a lunging thrust from Alexis.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't even know how I feel about him." Alexis replied.

Suddenly Alexis lunged keeping her sword low and landed a touch on my stomach.

"Yes!" I said proudly as I took a step back. "Very nice!"

We saluted each other. I could not help but be impressed with Alexis in the time she had taken up this sport she had become quite the accomplished fencer. In recent times I had a time of it trying to defeat her. Usually she would end up being the victor in these contests.

Before we could resume battle again, my telephone came to life. I pulled up my mask and reached for the phone to answer it. A smile rose to my lips when I heard the dulcet tones of Detective Beckett on the other end of the line. She was calling to advise they had a case and did I want in. Yeah, like I would say no to Beckett.

XXX

Beckett and I arrived at an apartment building in the better part of town. Stepping out of the elevator into the hallway we found uniforms and CSUs milling about doing what they usually did at crime scenes. At the far end of the corridor I saw Esposito talking to a woman aged in her late twenties or early thirties. The woman was crying as she was giving a statement.

Beckett too glanced over to where Esposito was standing but then turned and headed down in the opposite direction to where the victim's apartment was located. Ryan emerged from the apartment and approached us. I quickly noticed that Ryan's eyes were puffed up and his nose was a shade of red.

"No sign of forced entry." Ryan reported. "The same as the others."

In the ride over Beckett had filled me in on the home invasions that had occurred over a period of some months. The reason Beckett and her team had been called in was because that this time the victim of the home invasion had been murdered.

"Looks like our home invasion crew went for a four-peat." Beckett remarked grimly.

"They're stepping up their game. Becoming more violent."

As soon as Ryan finished his sentence he sneezed violently.

"Bless you." Beckett and I said simultaneously.

"Jinx!" I said, quick a flash to Beckett.

Esposito had finished with the woman and came over to us.

"What's wrong with him?" Beckett asked Esposito, indicating Ryan, who busy blowing his nose.

"Goose down. He's allergic." Esposito replied with a smirk.

"I'm sorry." I said looking at Beckett. "Under the time honoured rules jinx, you're not allowed to speak until I release you."

This remark earned me a roll of the eyes from Beckett. Suddenly Ryan sneezed again.

"Bless you." Beckett, Esposito and I said at the same time.

Beckett rounded on me. "Reverse double jinx." She said.

"I just...I..." I stammered in response.

"Uh-uh, Castle mouth shut, until I release you." Beckett said, before she turned to Ryan. "Thank you, Ryan."

Ryan still with a handkerchief to his nose, nodded his head and gave Beckett the thumbs-up sign. I could not be sure whether if it was for providing in formation or for sneezing and providing Beckett with a reverse double jinx.

I was quite taken aback by Beckett's ninja-like speed in invoking the reverse double jinx. It left me flummoxed, not to mention silent. Beckett had a triumphant gleam in her eye before she turned her attention to Esposito.

"So what do we have?" She asked.

Esposito pointed to the woman at the other end of the hallway.

"That's Joanne Delgado, daughter of Susan Delgado, the victim." Esposito said. "She called to say goodnight to her mom, only tonight mom doesn't pick up. She calls the doorman, doorman comes up, finds the door ajar and..."

"And?" Beckett pressed.

Esposito grinned at her. "Let's just say this one's definitely Beckett-flavoured."

That piece of information had me raising my eyebrows with interest.

Beckett strode into the Delgardo apartment with the guys and I following her. We entered the living room, the scene of the murder. It was a large living room that was decorated with what I could see were expensive pieces of furniture, so were the pieces of art, statues and the like that adorned cabinets and tables and the paintings on the walls. A touch too conservative for my tastes I would have to say.

Lanie crouching beside the large blood pool on the floor putting a blood coated white feather into a plastic evidence bag. The entire floor was covered in white feathers. Beckett walked over and crouched beside the medical examiner inspecting the blood pool closely.

"Blood splatter indicates single GSW." Lanie informed her. "Close range."

"You can still smell the cordite." Beckett remarked.

"I'll have to take your word for it." Ryan said still with a handkerchief at his nose.

I was surveying the living room when I turned to look at the wall safe. It was a gruesome sight that confronted me.

"Oh, they shot her and stuffed her in the safe." I said, shocked.

"Better than the last one." Esposito told me. "They beat the guy to death."

I could not help but shudder at the sight of Susan Delgado's body that was stuffed into what was really a small wall safe. I wondered how the hell they could have done that. And why would they do such a thing. It seemed so unnecessary. I turned away from the body and made my way over to the blood pool and inspected the blood.

Beckett had risen and approached the wall safe.

"None of the neighbours heard a gunshot?" She asked Esposito.

"Nada. Must be heavy sleepers." Esposito replied.

I was peering down at what looked like an exploded pillowcase that lay close to the blood pool. This was what the killer must have used.

"No, they used a pillow as a poorman's sound suppressor." I said.

I heard Beckett making a loud throat clearing sound. I understood what she was getting at.

"Yes, yes. I broke the jinx." I conceded. "I'll buy you a soda."

Beckett allowed herself a small smile of triumph before she turned her attention to the body in the safe.

"Any shell casing?" She asked.

"None." Lanie advised.

"Probably used a revolver." Beckett mused aloud.

"And a bolt cutter." Lanie called out.

Beckett looked at the arm that was hanging out of the safe, the ring finger of the hand had been severed.

"Her wedding ring. She didn't want to give it up, and so they punished her for it." Beckett glanced at Esposito. "Husband?"

"Passed a few years ago." Esposito reported.

"In a building like this? This part of town? You'd think she'd be safe. No pun intended." I said hastily.

I was still trying to get my head around the fact that someone had been able to get into a place such as this, a place that was pretty secure, and do what they had done.

"How often are people killed in neighbourhoods like this?" I asked.

Beckett turned away from inspecting the body and looked at me.

"Same as everywhere else, Castle." she said. "Just the once."

I hung around the crime scene for another hour or so observing both the detectives and Lanie and the CSU people go about their business gathering up evidence, looking for clues. I also did a little looking about in search of clues myself whilst at the same time trying keep out of the way of the professionals. I did not find anything and neither did Beckett and the boys. Beckett soon after sent me off home.

I was not around when Lanie and her people removed the body from the safe. It would have been interesting to see how they accomplished the task but I was not particularly miffed that I had missed out on that.

A body stuffed in a safe, well I have to say that was one method of killing I had never thought of for one of my books.

XXX

The following day I arrived at the precinct fairly early. Early enough to give Beckett and the boys a bit of a surprise. As usual Beckett had arrived at her desk almost at the break of dawn. That might be a slight exaggeration but not by much.

Not long after my arrival we were standing or sitting—I was sitting in my usual chair, Beckett was sitting on the edge of her desk beside me while Ryan and Esposito were standing—in front of the murder board going over the information we had on all four home invasion cases.

The murder board was crammed with information that had been gathered so far, a map of the city, photos of the types of jewellery stolen, photos of the victims, notes and questions, and so on and so forth.

"Each of the robberies took place in a different part of the city." I said, motioning to the map of the city we had on the board with four pins on it marking the location of the home invasions.

"A different high-end part of the city." Beckett pointed out.

"Wall safes and high-end jewellery." Esposito said. "These guys came in knowing exactly what they were going to find."

"Well, there must be a pattern. Something that connects them all." I said. "The first one was three months ago?"

"Central Park West." Ryan confirmed. "Bob and Linda Kesler were bound, gagged, and beaten. Intruders wore masks. Took roughly $175,000 in jewellery."

"Same M.O. On York street?" I asked.

"Yeah. Only, when Mr Brunner refused to open his safe, they broke his wife's arms." Esposito advised.

"Which brings us to last night." I said.

"They're getting bolder." Beckett replied. "They're escalating their violence."

I turned to look up at Beckett.

"Well, it can't be random." I told her. "How do they know what's in the safes?"

I paused in what I was saying and went off on a tangent.

"'Safes'?" I said. "Is that a word? Is it 'saves'? That can't be right."

"And you write for a living?" Esposito smirked.

"Castle. The point?" Beckett said, drawing me back to the matter in hand.

"The point is, our home invaders seem to know an awful lot about our victims."

"We've compared insurance companies, home security vendors." Ryan replied. "Even the kinds of safes they had." He gave me a pointed look when he emphasised the word 'safes'. "Nothing's been a match."

"I'm just thinking, they seemed to know their targets so well, maybe they actually know them." I informed everyone.

It was a theory which had begun to germinate in my head when we started reviewing the information on the murder board and especially when we could not find any link to each of the victims.

"Maybe the victim's daughter can tell us." Ryan said hopefully.

An hour later Joanne Delgado arrived and she was taken to the interview lounge. She had not been up to answering too many questions last night for obvious reasons and she had agreed to come in. She looked pale and drawn with red rimmed eyes, still in the early stages of grieving the loss of her mother. She was seated on a couch cradling a cup of tea. Beckett and I were seated opposite her.

On entering the lounge both Beckett and I had expressed again our sorrow for Joanne's loss. Beckett had started the interview by asking Joanne if she had been close to her mother.

"Yeah, we were close." Joanne replied. "She was my mother."

Beckett nodded her head. "So you'd know most of her friends?" She asked.

"Her friends?" Joanne said, looking a little puzzled at the question. "Yes, but I..."

"Were there any that you had strong feelings about? Didn't like, maybe? Somebody she met recently?"

"No."

"Did any of her friends have money problems?" I asked her.

Joanne Delgado frowned as she looked at me.

"Monsters broke into her place and killed her." She said, anger starting to simmer. "Why are you asking me about her friends?"

Beckett consulted her note book and then looked over to Joanne.

"Do you know Nelson and Janet Bruner?" Beckett asked.

"No."

"How about a Robert and Julie Pastori, or a Bob and Linder Kesler?" I asked.

"Who are these people?" Joanne demanded.

"They're victims of three previous home invasion robberies." Beckett informed Joanne. "Robberies that we think were committed by the same people that murdered your mother."

Joanne looked more than a little stunned to be told that news. She looked from Beckett to me and back to Beckett.

"What, there were others?" She gasped. "How...how long has this been going on?"

"A few months." Beckett said.

"Months? What, and you haven't caught them?"

"They didn't murder anyone until last week." Beckett said. "That's when I got this case."

I had been out of town last week on a book signing jaunt to appease ex-wife Number Two so I was not around when Beckett and the boys had caught the other murder case, the one where they had beaten the guy to death.

Joanne stared at Beckett trying to comprehend what she had been told.

"Since then, we've been doing everything we can to..."

Joanne cut Beckett off snapping at her not to press conference her. She told Beckett to save her speech because she had heard them all before. Joanne worked in public relations and she was the one who drafted all that pathos after airline crashes or outbreaks. She was the one who wrote things like 'Our hearts go out to the victims' families.

Joanne paused in her tirade and fought back the tears as she told us that her mother had felt like baking and wanted Joanne to come over but Joanne couldn't come over because she was busy. She was busy and now her mother was dead.

My eyes went to Beckett and I saw the look on her face. This was a woman who understood the pain and anguish that Joanne Delgado was going through for she had experienced it herself. Beckett ignored the tirade that Joanne had directed at her. Instead she leaned a little closer to Joanne and spoke to her in a quiet but determined voice.

Beckett said that Joanne was going to want to play out every possible scenario in the few days, like, what if she had only been there, if only she had come by, if only she didn't work late but it was not Joanne's fault. The ones to blame were the monsters who had murdered her mother.

"This isn't a speech." Beckett told her firmly but gently. "It's not a platitude. It's a promise. I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that they pay for what they did."

Joanne Delgado could not fight back another bout of tears but she nodded her understanding of what Beckett had told her. She wanted so much to believe what she had been told.

I stared at Beckett with no little amount of admiration for her, at the way she had spoken to Joanne. I immediately realised that my presence was no longer required. Quickly I closed my note book and as quietly as I possibly could I left the room, leaving Beckett to console the distraught Joanne Delgado.

After Beckett had seen Joanne Delgado out she met me at the vending machine. I slotted some coins in to the machine.

"Pretty impressive, the way you handled her back there." I remarked.

"I didn't 'handle' her, Castle." Beckett retorted. "I just told her the truth. Same thing I'm going to tell the other home invasion victims."

Beckett stepped up to the vending machine and punched a button. I bent down and extracted the can of soda she had selected. I presented it to her with a smile.

"Jinx paid in full." I announced.

"It's the job, Castle." Beckett accepted the offered soda and continuing our conversation.

"Oh, you're short selling, Beckett." I replied.

We started walking, heading for the elevator. We were on our way out to speak to the other victims.

"Ryan and Esposito could not manage that level of empathy."

"That's not true." Beckett retorted. "They just save it for fantasy football trades."

"Makes me think about Alexis. What would she do if something happened to me?"

I have to say that I had been thinking about it a fair bit in recent months, especially after had started to shadow Beckett and specifically after I had survived the gun battle with Baylor. It had me racing to check my will to see if it was up to date. I may have signed my life away in regards to riding with the NYPD so that even my lifeless remains could not sue the Department or the City but I wanted to double check that Alexis was taken care of. Thankfully my will was up to date.

"Well she still has her mom, right?" Beckett pointed out.

"Meredith's like a crazy aunt with a credit card. Of the two of us, I'm the more responsible one." I said glancing at her. "Pretty sad, isn't it?"

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Castle. After all, only the good die young."

"Ouch!" I said clutching my chest. Beckett merely smiled.

I have to say that it was a pretty good zinger. Mind you, I did set it up for her.

"Listen Freud, I know what you're trying to do." Beckett said, suddenly changing tack. "You're trying to get me to talk about my mom. To see if you can squeeze any more pulp for your fiction."

Not only is Beckett quick with a zinger, she also has a way with words. 'Pulp for my fiction'? I rather liked that one, I have to admit. However right at that moment I had to file it away.

"Pulp? You think what I do is pulp?" I said in mock outrage. I will have you know that _The New York Review of Books—_not _The New York Times Review_, mind you, _The New York Review of Books_, said that Derrick Storm is this generation's answer to..."

"I read that piece." Beckett interjected. "And even you have to admit that it's more than a little hyperbolic. So how much did you pay the reviewer?"

We had reached the elevator and luck was with us, some one had stepped out of it. Beckett swept into it and I followed.

"A case of Chateau neuf de pape." I informed her. "But that's not the point." I stood beside her a look of surprise on my face.

"The point is you read _The New York Review of Books."_

"Oh, so many layers to the Beckett onion. However will you peel them all?" Beckett chuckled.

Truly I did not know how I was going to accomplish the task of peeling all the layers of the Beckett Onion, seeing that she had issued the challenge. It was a challenge, that's the way I interpreted it, not as a rhetorical question. What I did know even from that moment, was that I was going to have a lot of fun trying to doing it.

XXX

While Beckett and I were out of the precinct Esposito and Ryan were not exactly sitting around twiddling their thumbs or tossing a baseball around as is their want when they don't have a case and the paperwork is up to date. I have Detective Ryan to thank for the following.

Ryan and Esposito were at their desks which is where Captain Montgomery found them. The captain brought with him the Forensics report from the Delgado residence.

Ryan noted that CSU had found brass shavings. Esposito replied that the bad guys must have used a bump key. Those of you who do not know what a bump key is, it's a standard key which has been filed down and a mallet is used to drive it into a lock which separates the tumblers and thus unlocks the door.

This was how Esposito explained it to Ryan because he thought his partner did not know what a bump key was. Ryan claimed that he knew what a bump key was but Esposito did not believe him. Ryan ignored the little jibe and pointed out the hardware on the Delgado's door was high-end import and no way would a standard bump key would work.

Esposito agreed with his partner, the home invaders would have had to use something special, something that the average home invader would not be able to rig. As Esposito was saying this he had a look on his face which caught the Captain's attention. The Captain asked him what he was thinking.

Esposito moved across to his desk and started tapping a few keys on his computer keyboard. As he was doing that he told the captain that he had busted this guy some time back and he specialised in bump keys and he was not afraid to get blood on his paws. Captain Montgomery remarked that because of bump keys and violence he was liking this guy already.

A moment later Esposito was able to pull up the file he had been seeking. The guy's name was Evan Mitchell. The name came as no surprise to the captain. Captain Montgomery explained to the boys that Evan Mitchell was a legacy. Both Mitchell's father and grandfather were legends in the industry.

Esposito informed the captain that he had collard Mitchell on a jewel heist on 47th and he had done a nickel for it upstate. A 'nickel', for those who don't know is a five year stretch in jail. What made Evan Mitchell top of the hit parade of suspects was the fact that he had gotten out of jail two weeks prior to the first home invasion.

Captain Montgomery did not have to think long and hard about Evan Mitchell. He ordered the boys to go pick him up.

XXXXX

_**Your reviews would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The Case of Home Is Where The Heart Stops

Part 2

Unfortunately our interviews with the other home invasion victims turned out to be a bust. None of them were able to provide any further information other than what they had already provided to the police. You can well imagine what Beckett's frustration level was, yes you guessed it, it was bordering on eleven.

I had noticed it in the car on the ride back to the precinct. Now, normally I would have been more than happy to offer her my services to relieve her frustration. I know quite a few toe-curling methods of frustration relief. Wisely, I did not put to voice to what I think would have been a most generous offer. I only had to see the look on her face to know that my offer would have crashed and burned under her withering glare. Instead we discussed the case, going over what we had, speculating, trying to build theory. The sum total of this exercise? Nada, zilch, nothing. We were basically at the same place we had been this morning.

Beckett's frustrated disposition was lightened somewhat when we arrived in the bullpen to be told by Esposito that he and Ryan had picked up a suspect. She even managed a little smile. The smile grew even bigger when she pulled rank and informed the boys that she was going to question Mitchell. The looks on their faces was priceless, you'd think Beckett had killed their pet goldfish. The boys were wise enough not to argue with her. After all she was she was the lead detective on the case, and she was taller than either Esposito or Ryan.

Beckett and I were standing in the observation room peering through the window into the the interrogation room. Evan Mitchell was sitting at the table alone seemingly unworried that he had found himself once again inside a police precinct. He was aged in his forties with more than a few of those years clearly etched on his on his weathered face.

Also with us in the observation room was Captain Montgomery. He had been perusing through Mitchell's file. Beckett had spent a little time familiarising herself with Mitchell's rap sheet in preparation for the coming interview. Mitchell had been cooling his heels in the interrogation room for a about an hour.

The door to the observation room opened and in walked Ryan and Esposito. Ryan had a smile on his face as he held up a plastic evidence bag which contained a gun.

"Say hello to his little friend." Ryan announced, in what I thought was the worst _Tony Montana_ impersonation I had ever heard. No one else thought to make comment on it and simply ignored the impersonation.

"It was in his waistband when we snatched him up." Esposito informed us.

Ryan passed the gun over to Beckett who inspected it carefully.

"Serial numbers are scratched off." Beckett observed.

"Heavy on collars, light on convictions." Captain Montgomery remarked as he closed the file he had been studying. He passed the file across to Beckett, who opened it up and skimmed through it one more time.

"Amazing how many times can a guy can get arrested without ever serving time." Ryan said, as she stared at Mitchell through the glass.

"He must have a good lawyer." I suggested.

"Or good at what he does." Captain Montgomery supplied.

"Good enough to be our perp?" I asked.

"Why do you writers always call them perps?" Ryan asked me.

"Isn't that what you call them?"

"We got a whole lot of names for them." Ryan grinned.

"Yeah." Esposito agreed.

"Pipehead, pisshead, ork, creep." Ryan offered.

"Crook, knucklehead, chucklehead." Esposito added.

I could not get my notebook out fast enough. I hurriedly began to write down the names Ryan and Esposito were giving me.

"Chud, turd." Ryan said.

"Destro, skell." Esposito replied.

"Skeksi, slicko, slick." Ryan offered.

"Mope." Esposito volleyed back.

"Sleestack."

I could not get the names down fast enough.

"Slow down, slow down." I called out.

Beckett had enough about this school yard game Ryan and Esposito were playing.

"Suspects." She announced in a firm voice. She glanced at Ryan and Esposito as she headed for the door. "We call them suspects."

"I'm old school." Montgomery said, not wanting to be left out. "I like 'dirtbag'"

"Classic!"

I quickly wrote that one down in the pad before I scurried out of the observation room to join Beckett. Even though I had not gotten all the words down that Ryan and Esposito were bandying about, I made a mental note to catch up with them later to go over and make sure I got all the names down.

Beckett opened the door to the interrogation room.

"Tell me about the gun, Mr Mitchell." Beckett said as she swept in and sat down opposite Mitchell.

"Oh, I'm not talking with out a lawyer." Mitchell replied with a smirk.

I eased myself against the wall beside the door. Beckett leaned back in her chair and regarded Mitchell.

"Why? You guilty of something?" She said.

"Yeah. Not running fast enough when your boys showed." Mitchell smirked.

"Where were you last night between five and nine?" Beckett asked.

Mitchell laughed. "I didn't do it?"

"You didn't do what?"

"Doesn't matter what." Mitchell smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Wherever you think I was, I wasn't."

Beckett nodded her head as she regarded Mitchell. As tough nuts go, I was getting the distinct impression he was one of the toughest. Still, my money was on Beckett.

"So where were you, then?" Beckett asked.

"Happy hour. Little neighbourhood place, drinking Belfast Carbombs with some of my Westie pals." Mitchell smirked again.

"You got anyone who can verify that for me?" Beckett asked him.

"Yeah." Mitchell nodded his head. "I got about thirty people who can, conservative estimate."

Beckett could not keep the disbelief from her face.

"How come I get this crazy hunch that most of those people got records a lot like yours?" She said.

"Well I wasn't drinking tea at the Plaza." Mitchell retorted. "Look if you want more reliable witnesses? Give me an hour or so, I'll see what I can do."

"You must be well connected." I suggested. "Friends in high places."

Mitchell cast a glance in my direction and then looked quickly away but I caught the smirk on his face. He looked at Beckett.

"Who's Mary with the manicure?" he sniggered. "I know he's not a cop, not with that haircut."

"I'm assisting Detective Beckett in the investigation." I replied.

Mitchell grinned at Beckett.

"Assisting? What's the matter, sweetie? You can't hack it out there alone?"

"You want to play?" Beckett said coldly.

It was the wrong thing Mitchell could have said. It was bad enough that he called Beckett 'sweetie' a big mistake at the best of times but he compounded the error by asking if she couldn't hack it out there alone. I caught the dangerous undertone in her voice. Retribution would not be long in coming.

Suddenly Beckett grabbed the edge of the table with both hands and shoved it hard against Mitchell. She stood up and leaned over, up close and personal. Mitchell winced at the impact of the edge of the table in his stomach.

"Let's play." Beckett told him angrily. "I got an ex-con with a gun and two fresh homicides just looking for a home."

Who writes her dialogue? Wow. That was better than some of my own stuff, I thought.

Mitchell winced a little. It must have hurt having his stomach stop the table but he recovered quickly. The smirk returned to his face.

"You can fish all you want, Detective Beckett." Mitchell said in a low voice. Slowly he turned to look up her. "Smart fish don't bite."

For all intents and purposes that was the end of the interview with Evan Mitchell. Beckett got nothing out of him. I could now see why his rap sheet was high on collars but light on convictions. He was a real tough nut to crack. He wasn't intimidated by being interrogated by the police because he was well used to it, probably got his training when he was in his youth. So, okay I lost this bet. Let me tell you though, I would always put my money on Detective Beckett.

XXX

Beckett was a decidedly unhappy camper when she marched out of the interrogation room. That unhappiness turned to anger after she spoke to Captain Montgomery. He told her that they could hold Mitchell on the gun that the boys had found on him when they picked him up but as there was no match with the ballistics on the Delgado case, and without other evidence link him to the other homicide Mitchell could not be charged.

Beckett of course insisted that she could find something. Montgomery then told her that Mitchell was being arraigned on an unrelated burglary on the same day when this crew had first struck. Basically it did not look like Mitchell was a part of this crew.

I was not present to witness this exchange between Captain Montgomery and Beckett. The exchange was witnessed by a detective who wishes to remain anonymous. When I did come around looking for her in the bullpen I found that she was not there. I was told that she had stormed off.

XXX

If Beckett had been turned down by the Captain there was no doubt that she would be seething with anger. I decided to be Daniel and venture into the lion's den, or in this particular case, the lioness' den.

There was only one problem with that. I did not know where said den was. Not to worry though, I set off to find her. I had to ask a few people if they had seen Beckett. Thankfully a uniform pointed me in the direction of the precinct's firing range.

The firing range was located in the basement and was heavily sound proofed. That's understandable, you don't want to be hearing the sound of gunfire going off all the time when you're trying to interrogate a suspect, or when you're trying to do paperwork. It can be somewhat distracting.

On entering the range I was greeted by the sound of rapid gunfire. Rounding the corner I saw a row of firing bays with each one partitioned off. At the far end of the row there stood Beckett, safety glasses on as well as ear protectors, taking aim and firing rapidly at a silhouette target.

"You got to watch those silhouettes." I called out as I approached. "They can be shifty bastards."

Beckett turned and looked at me.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to concentrate." Beckett said.

"Man, when I hit a wall, all I got is one of those little stress balls and internet porn." I told her.

"Castle..."

"Look, I get it, alright?" I continued. "You made a promise to a daughter to find her mother's killer. Doesn't take Freud to see what's what."

That was the reason for Beckett's anger. It was because of the promise that she had made to Joanne Delgado, not because Mitchell turned out not to be part of the home invasion crew. She had made a promise and things had turned out where she could not keep that promise.

"You're going to run up some blind alleys before you get out of the maze." I added.

"Look, as much as I appreciate your folksy Dr Phil aphorisms, I just want to..."

Beckett did not complete the sentence. She turned to face the target lifted up her gun and started firing at the target. As soon as she started firing I had to plug my ears with my fingers. I have to say that I was rather impressed with Beckett's shooting. Also, she looked so hot as she shot at the target. I did not mention that to her. She was holding a gun and she was angry. I did not want to end up being shot by her.

"Wouldn't it be more of a challenge if they weren't standing still?" I shouted above the gunshots. Just because Beckett was angry did not mean I couldn't joke with her.

Beckett stopped shooting and glanced at me. Reaching a decision she ejected the magazine from her gun and replaced it with a fresh clip. She set the gun down on the stand and turned to look at me.

"Okay, Castle." Beckett waved to her gun. "You show me how it's done."

My eyes lit up with delight. I could not believe she was going to let me fire the gun. I had not expected that. I reached for some safety glasses and ear protectors while Beckett replaced the silhouette with a new one. Now wearing the proper safety equipment I stepped up to the stand and picked up the gun from the stand and assumed a dueller's stance.

"It's not a duel, Scaramouche." Beckett said. "Here."

Beckett stepped up behind me and reached around to position my body and arms into the proper stance.

"Square off to the target. Feet shoulder distance apart." She instructed.

I could not help but grin as she did this. This was the first time she had been so close to me. I don't need to tell you how much I was enjoying this.

"Gauntlet your right fist in her left palm." Beckett said.

Suddenly the gun discharged and the shot flew way off target to bury itself in the buffering wall behind the target.

"Whoa! Shot too soon." I said, surprised.

"Yeah, well. You know, we could always cuddle, Castle." Beckett quipped, very close to my ear.

I turned to look at her, amused at her comeback, pleased to see a smile on her face.

"Oh, funny. And a smile." I grinned.

I turned to face the target and concentrated a little more and squeezed off another round. The bullet struck the target this time but above the right shoulder.

"That's better." Beckett said, rubbing her cheek where the shell casing had struck her when it had been ejected by the gun.

As I took aim once again I chose this moment to bring up the other reason I had come looking for Beckett.

"You know, I came down to ask you if I could take home some of those stolen property photos." I informed her.

"Photos of the jewellery, why?"

"I don't know. I just thought it might spark something." I suggested.

If Evan Mitchell had turned out to be a dead end I thought maybe the jewellery the invasion crew had stolen might provide some new to lead to follow. I thought it might be worth a shot—pardon the pun.

I took aim and fired again. This time the bullet struck the silhouette in the crotch.

"Ooh that's gotta hurt." I winced.

Beckett smiled. She stepped back and turned to look at me.

"Tell you what." She said. "You put any of the next three in the ten ring, and I will give you the files."

"Yeah?" I said, surprised at her challenge.

"Yeah."

Challenge accepted, my dear Detective Beckett, I thought to myself, trying to restrain the cocky grin that threatened to breakout across my face. Suddenly I pivoted into the Weaver stance, aimed and fired off three rounds in rapid succession. All three bullets struck the 10-ring in such a close cluster that it looked just like one bullet hole. As the last of the ejected shell casings cluttered on the ground Beckett tore off her safety glasses and stared the target. She turned to face me. The look on Beckett's face was priceless. It was one of total disbelief at what she had just witnessed.

"You're a very good teacher." I said in a low, seductive voice.

What? You're surprised too? Have you forgotten that I take research seriously? I have always placed a very high premium on research. When I was writing Derrick Storm I wanted his gun handling abilities to be authentic as possible. In order to do that I had to learned how to handle and shoot guns. I know this guy, ex-special forces, who taught me. I would spend hour after hour firing at targets under his tutelage until I became what you might call a crack shot. Even now from time to time I practise just to keep my eye in. So there you have it.

Okay, and yeah, I was just messing with Beckett in the firing range. Can't a guy have a little fun?

XXX

I was seated on the couch in the living room with a glass of wine in my hand and the photos of the jewellery that had been stolen by the home invasion crew arrayed on the coffee table. Beckett had not been too keen to hand over the photos, at least not until I had told her where I had learned to shoot like that. I did not reveal my secret despite her best efforts. After all I have to keep some of my secrets. I had to remind her that a bet was a bet before she reluctantly passed over a file containing the photos of the stolen jewellery.

I perused over the photos marvelling at their beauty and the artistry of the people who created such pieces. Many of these pieces were great works of art.

"Hey Dad."

I looked up and smiled at Alexis as she approached.

"Hey. How was your date with Owen?" I inquired.

"Dad, it wasn't a date." Alexis said. "It was a study group."

"Okay. How many in the group?"

"Just the two of us." Alexis smiled.

I nodded my head. "Uh-huh."

Alexis is rapidly reaching that age where boys are becoming a great interest. The thought terrifies me no end. Having been a teenage boy and remembering some of the things I did at that age just freaks me out little now that I have a teenage daughter. Perhaps it is the Universe paying me back for the things I did in my misspent youth. If Alexis is my punishment for the stuff I did many, many years ago I don't mind at all. Punish me all you want. I think the punishment is knowing what teenage girls can get up to and having me freak out at the thought of it.

Tonight I chose not to pursue the matter of Alexis and this boy Owen.

Alexis motioned to the photographs.

"Pilfering evidence again, I see." She said, changing the subject rapidly.

"Borrowed." I corrected. I explained to her these photos were copies. Insurance companies maintain photos of jewellery pieces like these for identification purposes in case the the jewellery gets lost or stolen.

While I was giving that explanation Mother sauntered into the living room with a cocktail glass in her hand. Spotting the photographs on the coffee table she zeroed in and picked up one of the photos and studied it.

"Hello gorgeous. Ooh where have you been all my life?" She said with a smiling of longing on her face.

This was the moment I thought was right to bring up something that I had been thinking about and had been thinking about ever since I had left Susan Delgado's apartment.

"I'm thinking of installing a new security system." I announced. "Maybe a panic room."

Mother lowered the photo she had been gazing at and turned to look at me.

"Panic room? What for?" She asked. "Panic attacks?"

"Anyone comes, we'll beat them off with swords. Or pens, since they are mightier." Alexis added.

My two red heads did not seem to be taking this matter as serious as they should have. I had not told them about how Susan Delgado had been found stuffed in her wall safe. I wanted to spare them that horrific detail. Maybe I should have.

"No, I'm serious." I said. "I just want us to be safe."

"Oh life isn't safe. Especially in New York." Mother intoned. "Cranes collapse, air conditioners fall out of the sky. In the end, there's just a few short years."

I looked at my mother but did not speak. I had a feeling that she had not finished.

"The most you can do is make the most of it before something knocks you down. 'People living deeply have no fear of death.'"

I had been right. My eyebrows rose slowly upwards.

"Anais Nin?" I said. I motioned to the drink in her hand. "Mother, how many of those have you had?"

"Oh shh" Mother retorted.

I turned back to the photos. I picked one up from the coffee table and studied it.

"These are pretty incredible pieces. You wouldn't uses a normal fence for these." I mused aloud. "You'd need someone with impeccable taste, someone who who appreciated their value, someone who had high-end buyer connections."

"Powell. Oh there was a man." Mother said with a wistful tone in her voice. She levelled a look at me. "And you had to go and ruin it."

"Who's Powell?" Alexis asked.

"That was years ago." I said. "I'm sure he's forgotten all about that."

"Who's Powell?" Alexis asked again, with a little urgency in her voice.

"Forgotten?" Mother scoffed. "You forced him into retirement. You ruined his life. He threatened to slit your throat."

"Dad! Who's Powell." Alexis demanded.

I turned to look at her.

"You remember that character of mine, Bentley Silver?"

"The jewel thief in _Storm Rising_?" Alexis said.

"Yeah. I kind of based him on Powell." I informed her.

"Kind of?" Mother snorted. "You stole the man's life."

Mother turned to look at her granddaughter.

"And then your father, genius that he is, thanked him in the acknowledgements, completely blowing his cover."

"Yeah, he still can't be mad." I said.

When mother had mentioned Powell's name it had given me an idea. If there was anybody who would be considered an expert in this field it would be Powell. He could possibly provide some helpful information. I gathered up the photos of the jewellery

"I'm going to see him." I announced as I rose to my feet.

"Dad!"

"No, I'll be okay." I assured my daughter. "Don't worry. I think it will be fine."

I headed for the front door.

"If he doesn't slit your throat, tell him that he owes me an evening at Le Cirque." Mother called out.

It was a good sign that Mother did not seem too perturbed that I was going to pay a visit to Powell. I would have had second thoughts if there was any concern on her part.

XXXXX

_**A review would be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The Case of Home Is Where The Heart Stops

Part 3

The creaky rickety freight elevator reached the top floor of the apartment building. I pulled up the gate and stepped into dimly lit garret. Cautiously I made my way into the the place. There were leather bound books on shelves, an antique globe stood beside the shelves, a pair of leather club chairs sat off to one side with lamps standing behind the chairs. Further on I found a state of the art workbench, with tools of the trade on it, a large magnifying glass sat on the workbench, it was also filled with gems and other precious stones, uncut diamonds waiting for their inner beauty to be revealed at the hands of a skilled craftsman. On the workbench as well were several showpieces. I could not even begin to estimate the value of these gemstones and showpieces but if pressed I'd say I was looking at something worth a high six-figured sum.

Moving on a little further I found a a leather bound scrapbook. I started to flip through the pages and saw yellowed newspaper clippings of big jewellery heists from around the world. No doubt mementos of a past life I figured. I noticed on the wall were newspaper clippings from _The Ledger_ of the recent home invasions.

Hearing a sound behind me I turned around and ran into a fist that turned out my lights.

I don't know how long I was knocked out for but when I did open my eyes I saw a familiar face. Standing over me was Caine Powell.

Powell was what you might call a gentleman thief. Tall, with a mane of grey hair that was beginning to thin a little, aged in his late sixties or early seventies, he had a regal air about him as if he was some European prince who had lost his throne. That could well be true as he had never talked about his distant past, if it's not it's still a nice story. Though he had a refined accent that belied origins somewhere in Europe.

I was sitting on the ground rubbing at my jaw and looked up to see Powell pouring wine for the both of us. A smile was on his face.

"What can I say, Rick." Powell chuckled. "You had it coming."

Slowly I got to my feet and accepted the offered glass of wine.

"Yes, I did." I replied. "Thanks for not killing me."

"The carpet is an antique." Powell said motioning to the carpet on the floor. "Turkish, mid 1600s. Blood stains on it would have been a disaster. Besides, I was ready to retire. Being a ghost is young man's game."

I was pleased to hear that he let bygones be bygones. He took it well I thought. Certainly it could have been a lot worse for me. But knowing Powell he would not have exacted the revenge he had threatened when I had unfortunately outed him and forced him into retirement. Like I said, he was a gentleman thief who did not like to resort to violence. He reminded me of the Cary Grant's character John Robie Gray from the film _To Catch A Thief. _Still, old guy or not, gentleman thief or not, he still packed quite a punch!

"Good to see you, old friend." I said.

"And you as well, dear boy." Powell replied. "Tell me, how is Martha?"

"Still a one woman show in search of an audience." I said with a smile. "She says you owe her an evening at Le Cirque."

Powell smiled and nodded his head, chuckling. He took a sip of his wine.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? You're not planning a sequel, I hope?"

I passed over to him the envelope that contained the photos of the jewellery. Powell opened the envelope and pulled out the photos.

"What's this?" He asked.

"Stolen jewellery from the rash of home invasions." I informed him.

Powell began to inspect the photos and I saw the appreciative smile on his face as he looked from one photo to the next. It was the kind of look one has when someone admires the lustre and curves of a beautiful woman. I should know I have done it countless times myself.

"So very lovely." Powell said reverentially.

"I was wondering if anyone's tried to fence them." I said.

"I've heard nary a whisper of anything in this range." Powell continued to gaze at the photos.

"The police are holding a guy named Mitchell."

"Haven't had the pleasure."

"Anything special about these? Anything they have in common?" I inquired.

Powell almost reluctantly placed the photos down on the bench and looked at me.

"These are hardly everyday wear." Powell said. "I suppose one dusts them off for that very special occasion."

"So, then how did our thieves know they were there?"

Powell paused with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Seeing comes before wanting, Rick." Powell said finally. "These chaps may actually live among their victims and move through their world."

"Anything else special about them?" I asked.

"Without seeing the scene of the crime, anything would be mere speculation."

"Well the crime scene's all locked up and sealed. I don't think I could get you in there." I said with a shrug.

Powell looked at me and smiled.

"Let that be the least of our concerns." he announced with a small smile.

XXX

Powell and I arrived at Susan Delgado's apartment. The front door was covered in police crime scene tape warning everyone to stay away from approaching. As I worked with the police I did not think the warning applied to me so I walked up to the door. Sure enough the door was locked. I looked over to Powell who merely smiled and stepped up to the door.

From the pocket of his jacket Powell produce a couple of tools of his trade and went to work on the lock. Within moments the lock was popped and he pushed open the door. We both peered into the darkened living room. I produced the flashlight that Powell had given me before we had left his apartment. I shined the light into the livingroom.

"You don't seem out of practice." I remarked.

"Just like riding a bike." Powell replied.

We stepped over the police taped and entered the room. I closed the door and made sure to lock it. Powell used his own flashlight and surveyed the room.

"Our thieves used a bump key." I added.

"This new generation. How utterly vulgar." Powell said disdainfully.

Powell turned the flash light in the direction of the wall safe. The bright silver light picked up the bloodstains dripping down from the still open safe and in the safe itself.

"Rick. You didn't tell me they put her in the safe." Powell said.

"What's the significance?" I inquired.

Powell made a face as he turned away from the safe and faced me.

"The significance is that it is unnecessary." Powell said. "It's brutality for brutality's sake."

Powell let his falshlight sweep over the rest of the living room.

"This used to be a gentleman's game. We were like ghosts. We could walk through walls and simply disappear." He paused and then motioned in the direction of the wall safe. "But whoever did this, they're more like vampires. The taste of blood makes them feel alive. These are the sort of chaps a fellow in my line of work would not care to meet by chance in the dark."

"How often does that happen?" I asked.

"More often than you'd think, actually. Ours is a very small community."

"And then what?"

"In my day, we'd usually come to some sort of agreement." Powell shrugged. "You see there was a code of conduct among professionals."

I was about to ask another question but my question died on the tip of my tongue when we both heard a creak of wood beyond the front door. Powell put his finger to his lips and switched off his flashlight. I did the same with my flashlight plunging the living room into darkness. I turned in the direction of the door as someone started fiddling with the lock. Turning back I found myself alone. Powell had vanished.

"Powell? Powell?" I whispered.

How he manage to vanish into thin air I had no idea. He was standing next to me one moment and the next poof! He was gone. I would have considered it so cool under any other circumstance but now I had other things to worry about.

The door was unlocked and opened. A flashlight shined on me. I raised my hands and turned to look at who was standing in the doorway.

"Castle?" Beckett said with more than a little surprise in her voice.

"Hey. What's going on?" I replied flashing a big smile at her, relief sweeping through my body.

My first thought had been that it might have been a uniform cop and I would have a hard time of it trying to explain to Beckett what I was doing in the dead of night at an active crime scene.

Beckett stared with surprise at finding me standing in the living room. Slowly she lowered her gun that she had trained on me. The look on her face told me that I had some explaining to do.

XXX

The ride back to the precinct was to say the least more than a little uncomfortable for me. She demanded to know what I was doing in Susan Delgado's apartment and I told her. That piece of news merely made her even more angry than she had been. The rest of the trip was spent in silence.

However I could not keep quiet and when we had arrived at the precinct I tried to defend my actions. We got into a bit of an argument which continued as we rode up the elevator.

As we stepped off the elevator and headed for the bullpen our argument continued.

"You brought a thief to a crime scene." Beckett admonished.

"It was very helpful." I defended.

"It was criminal trespassing." Beckett shot back.

"Tomato, tomato." I said sing-song.

That response just made Beckett a touch more angrier. She levelled a look in my direction.

"Tell your friend to keep up his disappearing act. And the next time you show up to a crime scene without me, I'll show you how my taser works." Beckett warned.

"Promise?" I asked hopefully.

Beckett glared at me. I ignored her look. We reached her desk and sat at our appointed seats.

"So why were you there?" I asked her. It had made me curious to find Beckett at the Delgado apartment late at night. I had been wanting to ask her the question but had not had the chance since we had gotten into the argument.

"Seeing if there's anything I missed." Beckett informed me. She turned and looked at me. "So?"

"So?" I echoed.

"Was there?" She asked.

"Did Mitchell make bail yet?" I asked her.

"Paperwork's not done yet."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I narrowed my eyes at her.

Beckett shrugged her shoulders. "I'm holding him out of spite." She confessed.

That brought a small smile to myself. I would never had pegged Beckett as spiteful but then again I could not blame her for doing it. It was a big mistake on Mitchell's part to call her 'sweetie' and question her abilities. Letting him cool his heels in the lock up might let him see the error of his ways.

"I want to talk to him." I announced.

"Why? We already know he wasn't involved." Beckett said.

"Something Powell said." I told her. "I think Mitchell knows more than he's saying."

"What makes you think he'll share with us?" Beckett questioned.

"Not us." I replied. "Just me."

I quickly told her the plan I had in mind. To her credit Beckett readily agreed to the plan but before anything could be done she needed to run it past the captain. He heard us out and gave it his ok. Even though it was late in the evening we managed to rustle up a tech person who wired me up.

Not long after I was sitting in Mitchell's cell in the lock up. Despite the hours sitting in the lock up Mitchell still had the same kind of smirk on his face that I had seen earlier in the day.

"So what are you, a forensic psychiatrist? Some kind of profiler?" Mitchell asked.

"Actually, I'm a writer." I informed him as I pulled out a notepad and pen from my pocket.

"Embedded reporter, huh?" Mitchell chuckled. "What, you gonna make me famous?"

"Not that kind of writer. I'm a novelist."

"Yeah? Anything I might have heard of?" Mitchell asked.

"_Storm's Last Stand...Storm Season?_" I suggested.

"Derrick Storm?"

Mitchell's face brightened and his demeanour changed.

"Yeah."

"I love that guy." Mitchell shook his head. "Why the hell did you kill him?"

"It's a long story." I replied. I looked at Mitchell and smiled at him. "But I'm working on a new one and I got to tell you, it is very cool. But I want to get the details right."

Mitchell nodded his head and then complained that we writers never got the details right, not in books or in the movies. He said that they always write people like him as clowns and thugs. Writers never stop to think that people like him have mortgages and families, struggle to make ends meet.

I readily agreed with him and then told him of the story that I was writing. About a crew of home invaders based on the ones that the police were looking for at the moment. I told Mitchell that I had one scene where a guy like Mitchell runs into the crew by accident, in a middle of a job.

Mitchell shook his head firmly.

"Wouldn't happen to me." Mitchell declared. "I'm not doing residentials. Not until you catch these guys. These guys are dark."

"What, you know them?" I asked, trying hard not to sound excited.

Mitchell looked about to see if the coast was clear before he leaned in conspiratorially.

"Their shot collar came into a bar a few months back, looking to put together a crew." Mitchell said in a low voice "Wanted to bring me on. Said he had eyes on the inside, working up scores for him, feeding him the Glengarry leads, items, names, addresses. Said that all he needed was one of my bump keys."

"Did you give it to him?" I asked.

Mitchell nodded his head. "Yeah I gave it to him. But just to get rid of him. I wasn't about to join his crew."

"Why not?"

"Like I said, these guys were dark." Mitchell said. "And I'm a two minute man. In and out. That's my hard and fast."

I nodded my head in understanding as I made a note on the pad.

"But this sadistic whack job? Whoa." Mitchell continued with a shake of his of his head. "Said he liked to play with his food before he ate it."

I could not keep the smile from my face and I leaned towards Mitchell.

"Alright...this...um shot coller, if I put him in the book, I want it to feel authentic. How would you describe him?"

For the next half an hour or so I sat with Mitchell and got him to describe in detail the shot collar he had mentioned. I had sat in on a session with the police sketch artist not that long ago so I knew what questions to ask Mitchell, I made copious notes in my pad even though this meeting was being taped, nothing wrong with having a back up.

On leaving the lock up I head upstairs and found Beckett and Captain Montgomery in one of the conference rooms. They greeted me with smiles. Beckett's was especially warm for a change and I interpreted it as her being pleased with me for the job I had done. If I hadn't been feeling exhausted I would have asked her to tickle my tummy. I handed over my note book to her and called it a night, actually, morning and headed home.

XXX

The following day Joanne Delgado came into the precinct again. Beckett had called and asked her to come in. We were sitting in the interview lounge.

Sometime between my leaving the precinct last night and my arrival this morning Beckett had passed the information I had gotten from Mitchell over to the police sketch artist and he had produced a sketch of the shot collar.

"Is this the man who killed her?" Joanne asked as she studied the sketch that Beckett had passed to her.

"We think so." Beckett said. "We believe he may have had more than just a passing relationship with your mom, and he could be anyone. A waiter, dog-walker, doorman, personal trainer."

Joanne shook her head as she continued to look at the sketch. Slowly she looked up at Beckett.

"No. I don't recognise him." Joanne announced. "Maybe one of the other victims knows."

Beckett glanced at me and she gave me a frown. It matched my own. Beckett had sent out Esposito and Ryan armed with copies of the sketch to interview the other victims. They had reported back that none of the other victims were able to help, they did not recognise the man. Joanne had been our last hope. We had drawn another blank.

"Your mom wear jewellery often?" I inquired.

If we had drawn a blank on the name of the shot collar there was still jewellery.

"No. Just special events." Joanne replied.

"What kind of special events?" Beckett asked.

"A fashion show last year. Gallery openings. Fund raisers. My mother loved her causes. Opera companies, environmental groups."

I cast a look in Beckett's direction. She turned to look at me.

"Eyes inside." I reminded her.

XXX

An hour later Beckett, the boys and I were assembled in the bullpen standing before two large whiteboards. On the whiteboards were the names of the victims. Under the names each of us had written down the names of the various charities and other organisations that they had supported from lists we had been given.

"Why are we doing this again?" Ryan complained.

"According to Mitchell, the shot collar who wanted the bump key had someone feeding him inside information about our victims." Beckett informed him.

"And Powell says the pieces of jewellery being stolen are the kind you save for special occasions." I added.

Beckett had told me that she had told the boys about me and Powell

"Special occasion like charity event." Ryan said, nodding his head.

"So we find the organization that all our victims supported..." Esposito said.

"...and we find our guy." Beckett finished.

Soon we studied the boards and began to read off the list of charities we had in our hands. As we were going through the lists we found nothing that linked all four victims, one or two supported a particular charity but not the others, there was one charity that three of the victims supported, and there were other charities that one supported but none of the others did.

The saying, 'needle in a hystack' bobbed up in my head when my eyes studied the list under the Bruner's name. I saw a charity name that caught my attention.

"Wait a second. M.A.D.T." I said. "That's the Metropolitan American Dance Theatre."

"Metropolitan American Dance Theatre." Beckett pointed to the Delgado column.

"Metro American Dance." Esposito said pointing to the Pastori column.

"M.A.D.T." Ryan confirmed.

"Find out who's in charge and how I can find them." Beckett ordered Esposito.

"Right on it." Esposito replied as he started moving to his desk.

Beckett glanced at me and I saw the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. We had finally found a link to all four of the home invasion victims. We now had a lead that we could follow and hopefully lead us to the shot collar.

I like to think that the smile was for me, a reward in thanks for having help dig up a new lead. That's what I'll go with.

XXX

Just after lunch Beckett and I entered a large ballroom that was in the process of being prepared for an event. I could see staff scurrying around fixing last minute things on tables. Some others were concentrating on raising a large M.A.D.T banner above the stage.

Standing in the middle of all this activity was Anne Greene, aged in her thirties, quite attractive and impeccably dressed. She was directing the final preparations. She was the company director of the M.A.D.T. According to the information Esposito had managed to dig up.

"There she is." Beckett pointed out.

"She can invade my home any time." I replied as I studied Anne Greene.

"Yeah, well, if she's in on it, she's doing it purely for kicks." Beckett said, unimpressed with my remarks. "Textile heiress, no record and clean DMV."

We crossed the ballroom heading towards Anne who was currently advising a ballroom staff member where to place the flower centrepieces on which tables.

"Ms Greene, I'm Detective Beckett." Beckett announced. "And this is..."

Beckett did not get to finish the sentence because Anne turned her eyes to me and suddenly broke into bright beaming smile.

"Ricky? Ricky Castle?" she gushed. "I've heard perfectly awful things about you from my friend Cheney."

"Cheney...?" I muttered. The name did ring a bell but I could not quite put a face to the name.

"Tall, brunette, after-market nose." Anne supplied, jogging my memory.

"Cheney! Of course! How is Cheney?" I recovered rather smoothly.

I could feel Beckett's glare boring a hole in the side of my head but I did not look at her, lest I spontaneously combust under her glare.

"Oh, I hear she's a great scandal in St Moritz." Anne laughed.

"Ahh..." I nodded my head knowingly.

I'll be honest right here. I still did not know who Cheney was. 'Tall, brunette, after-market nose' could have described more than a few women I had dated in the past. I was just able to cover this memory loss because of years of practice.

"And you?" Anne asked.

"Currently between scandals, actually." I laughed.

"Oh." Anne's smile slipped a little. "You two aren't...?"

"No." Beckett said.

"Not yet." I said.

Beckett rolled her eyes.

Well, I guy can live in hope, can't he?

"Never." Beckett said firmly, casting a look in my direction. "In fact, Ricky, here is assisting me with a homicide investigation."

"How exciting." Anne said, the smile returning to its full wattage.

I smiled back at her.

"Yes." Beckett continued. "And it involves your organisation."

We moved over to a table that was a little out of the way from the rest of the preparations. Beckett got down to business informing Anne about all four victims of the home invasions having links to the M.A.D.T and that the police thought that someone within the organisation was supplying information to the home invasion crew. Beckett asked for a list of the employees.

"All our employees go through an extensive background check." Anne said. "I can assure you none of them are involved."

"I'm still going to need a list of the employees who had access to donor records." Beckett insisted.

"Of course...Detective." Anne said. "I'm sure this is all a coincidence."

"Unfortunately, I'm not." Beckett retorted. "That's why I'm going to need a copy of your donor list as well."

Anne stiffened a little and the smile slipped from her face.

"That may be a problem. The people who give publicly, they're not an issue." Anne said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But some of our donors cherish their anonymity. We're contractually obligated to protect that."

"What about their lives? Do your donors cherish those as well?" Beckett said sharply.

Watching this sparring match I got the distinct impression that Beckett had taken an instant dislike to Anne. I guess it may have something to do with the stonewalling she was getting from Anne over the donor list.

"I assure you, my office will contact each of them and alert them to the situation." Anne said smoothly.

"I'd really like to contact them myself." Beckett said crisply.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but my hands are tied." Anne said with a shrug. "If you want my confidential donor list, you're going to need a court order."

Beckett's face hardened as she battled to suppress the surge of anger that was struggling to break out. She glanced at me.

"Awkward." I whispered to her.

Beckett's look turned into a glare. I turned to look at Anne and put on a smile before I asked her if she could give us a copy of the list of employees. Anne assured me that she would have the list faxed over to the precinct. Beckett then rose from her chair and stormed out of the ballroom. Well, not exactly storm out, more like strode away purposefully.

I did not immediately follow. I had to hang back to provide Anne with the details where to send the list. I also hung back because I had a request to ask of her, a request as it turned out Anne was more than happy to accommodate.

XXX

On our arrival back at the precinct we found the list of employees waiting for us. Beckett assigned the task of checking the list to Ryan and Esposito. I took up station beside Beckett's desk but said nothing to her. She was in a bad mood and I did not think any joking on part would alleviate it. Not long after I got called down to the front desk to pick up something that had been delivered for me.

On returning to the bullpen I found Beckett busy typing away at her computer. Ryan was standing at her desk but Beckett was totally ignoring him and his report that list of employees had checked out, that they had no priors. Ryan looked to his partner wanting to know what Beckett was doing to be told by Esposito that she was writing an affidavit for a court order.  
"That no one is going to sign." I pointed out as I approached Beckett's desk. "Did you see that list of Board members? Half the judges in town are on it."

The half that I don't know and are not members of my Gotham City poker crew.

Beckett let out a loud frustrated sigh as she sat back in her chair and looked up at me.

"What am I supposed to do?" She said sharply. "Just let someone else die?"

"Whoa, hey, you seem a little stressed." I remarked. I took a step closer to her desk and grinned a little. "Hey, you know what you need?"

Beckett narrowed her eyes at me with a look that said 'don't tell me what I need'

I ignored the look and continued speaking. "A night on the town."

"A what now?" Beckett said, surprised.

With a growing smile I reached into the pocket inside my jacket and pulled out two large glossy tickets and waved them in front of Beckett.

"What are those?" She asked.

"The gateway to another world." I said in a seductive tone.

"Castle!"

I really need to work on my seductive tone if that was the result for my efforts. Sobering up I looked at Beckett.

"They hold four fund raisers a year." I informed her. "The last one took place a week before the robberies began."

Understanding suddenly washed across Beckett's face as she realised what those tickets I was holding meant.

"No." She said firmly.

"It's perfect." I volleyed back. "You don't have to ask who the donors are, because they'll be there wearing their jewellery."

Beckett shook her head.

Esposito spoke up. "If the employees and volunteers are clean, then our perp..."

"Skell." I corrected.

"...could be working the party."

"And we could work the door." Ryan added.

I loved these two guys, have I told you?

Defeat was written all over Beckett's face.

"So its settled. Pick me up at eight?" I told her. "Oh, it's a black tie event. That's not a problem, is it?"

"Uh...no...no." Beckett said quietly.

I beamed brightly at her before I turned and headed out, leaving a rather stunned looking Beckett in my wake.

I had seen the imperceptible, hesitant look in Beckett's hazel eyes when I said that the ball was a black tie event, if that would be a problem. She covered it well, I'll give her that. Esposito and Ryan did not see it. But because of my sharp observation skills I did.

Leaving the precinct I had a big smile on my face as I made a call to a guy I knew. Well, it was not a guy exactly, it was a woman. Cinderella was going to the ball, but not only was she going to the ball she was going to be the belle of the ball if I had anything to do with it, and guess what? I did!

XXXXX


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The Case of Home Is Where The Heart Stops

Part 4

I have tried to get my beautiful, ever inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life to spill on what had transpired at her place in the hours leading up to her arrival at the front door to Casa Castle. Steadfastly she had refused. However all was not lost.

Dr Lanie Parish was only too eager to dish on some of what transpired at Beckett's apartment, providing a near verbatim report. She had been called over by Beckett to help her get ready for the ball.

After showering Beckett was standing in her bedroom wrapped only in a towel—you have no idea how many times I have pictured that particular scene in my head—going through her collection of dresses hoping to find one that was remotely suitable for a high society fund raising event. Lanie seated on the bed dismissed one dress after another with a suitably derisive or sarcastic comment.

With time rapidly running out Beckett was steadily getting more frustrated and a little panicked. She claimed to Lanie that I was trying to humiliate her—as if I would do something like.

It was at that moment when Beckett's front door bell rang. Lanie went to answer the door with the admonition that Beckett had better not be wearing her prom dress when she returned. Beckett stood in front of her open wardrobe started at it hoping to find something that she could wear to this high-end fund raising event.

Lanie returned to Beckett's bedroom carrying a large white box that had been delivered.

"What is it?" Beckett asked.

"Delivery."

"From who?"

"Let's find out."

Lanie passed over the box to Beckett and pulled out the card from the envelope that came with the box.

"Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo." Lanie read out.

"_Cinderella_." Beckett said frowning. "It's from him."

"Oh, please. It's a dress. Now open it, girlfriend." Lanie demanded.

"I knew he was arrogant, but this, this is complete..."

Beckett opened the box and her words failed her when she set eyes on what nestled inside the box. Lanie let out a sharp gasp of surprise.

"Oh." Beckett squeaked.

XXX

Beckett was not the only one feeling nervous about the upcoming fund raising event. At Casa Castle I was standing in front of the dressing mirror battling with my bow tie and losing the battle. Alexis walked into my bedroom and saw my losing battle with the bow tie.

"My dad, nervous for a date?" Alexis remarked with amusement on her face and in her voice.

"It's not a date." I told her. "It's an undercover operation."

"Uh-huh."

My wise-beyond-her-years daughter of mine saw right through me. While it was an undercover operation of sorts, I was looking at it like a date. And yes I was nervous. More nervous than on my prom night when I went to pick up my date and being interrogated by her father in a manner that would have had some totalitarian secret police forces nodding their head in approval. I was going out with Kate Beckett and I really wanted to impress.

Alexis came to my assistance and did up my bow tie. There are times when I wonder what I would do without her. It did not take her too long to get the bow tie right and presentable.

Mother hovered in doorway eyeing me suspiciously.

"I don't know why you wont tell me where this party is." She said.

"Because you'll show up." I told her truthfully.

Mother nodded her head and narrowed her eyes, with a kind of look that said 'there's more than one way to skin a cat'. I should have taken heed of it but in my nervousness about going out with Beckett I simply ignored it.

When I had arrived home to the loft earlier I was more excited and nervous than a cat on a hot tin roof and I may have mentioned to my two red heads about taking Beckett out to a high society ball. That was when Mother began to pester me about the location of this said ball. Luckily I still had enough presence of mind to know what would happen if I told her where the ball was, that I remained silent about its location despite her valiant attempts to extract it from me.

At the appointed hour there came a knock on the door. Mother headed out to answer it. On opening the door Mother let out a gasp of delight on seeing Beckett standing there.

"Stunning. Simply stunning." She declared. "Come in, come in."

Beckett hesitantly entered the loft.

"Oh hang on, hang on." Mother chortled as scurried off somewhere.

Alexis helped me into the tuxedo jacket gave me a quick once over and nodded her approval and walked out into the living room over to near the front door.

On seeing Beckett standing there, I forgot how to breathe for a moment. Simply stunning did not even begin to describe what I saw. I knew that she would look great in the dress I had gotten for her but not even I with my vivid imagination realised how great she would look, did look. My 'guy' had

outdone herself. All I had done was to provide her with some of my observations of Beckett and she had done the rest. As fair godmother's go, my 'guy' was the tops.

Beckett was wearing a floor length strapless red dress with a beaded bodice that allowed for enough modesty without making it boring with an underlying suggestion of mischievousness, just like the wearer of the dress. It accentuated her curves in all the right ways much to my breathless delight. The ensemble was completed with a cream coloured wrap around her shoulders.

"You look incredible." Alexis said, smiling.

"Really?" Beckett said, looking nervous and self conscious. Suddenly she smiled.

"Really." I agreed, finally managing to speak. "You clean up well, Detective.

Beckett's smile deepened.

Really, 'you clean up well, Detective'? That was the best I could come up with? I Richard Castle famous author with a whole arsenal of words and compliments at my disposal and the best I could come up with was, 'you clean up well, Detective'?

In my defence I will say that I was quite besotted by the mesmerising sight that I beheld. Without doubt I was gazing upon the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

"Thank you, Castle." Beckett said, smiling.

Mother returned from her foraging expedition and she was holding a diamond and ruby necklace.

"I was nominated for a Tony once and..."

Beckett saw the necklace.

"Oh, no, Martha, I couldn't..."

"Yes, you can." Martha told her.

Beckett with a little reluctance allowed Mother to put the necklace around her. The necklace was the perfect accessory to the outfit and made her look even more stunning, if that was at all possible. I have to hand it to Mother she does have a good eye for such things.

Once Mother had secured the necklace around Beckett's beautiful neck she stepped back to take a look.

"Oh, it looks brilliant." She declared. Then she pounced. "So where are you guys headed tonight?"

I started waving to Beckett in an effort to stop her from telling Mother where we were going tonight but unfortunately she did not see my frantic waving.

"Umm, we're going to the Warldorf." She said.

Mother shot me a triumphant look. "Uh-huh."

Well so much for keeping it secret from Mother. I had no doubt she would be gate crashing the fund raiser. When it comes to gate crashing events, Mother is quite the accomplished expert.

I set aside thoughts of what my Mother would do and focused my attention on Beckett. We had a show to get on the road. I bid my two beloved red heads a good night, took Beckett by the hand and escorted her out of the loft to a chorus of 'good nights' and 'have funs'.

I had hired a limo for the occasion but is was not one of those block-long vehicular monstrosities that could house an entire third world village in comfort. It was a comfortable set of wheels with just a touch of showiness about it. I still had to make a show of it to the public. I'm Richard Castle after all. Seriously though, I wanted to impress without going over the top and spared little cost in doing it.

On the ride to the event I found it extremely difficult to keep my eyes off Beckett. I could not help it, she was very easy on the eye. A few times my eyes did rest on her cleavage but I did not over do it. At least I hope I did not over do it. I did notice that she was a little quiet, feeling and looking nervous.

My first thought was it was because of my staring that was making her nervous. As you may well know one of my favourite hobbies is to stare at her. It's something which she has told me she finds creepy on more than a few occasions. After a little prodding on my part Beckett finally confessed what was concerning her.

I am pleased to report that this particular time, my staring had nothing to do with her anxiousness—there's a first, I know. The reason Beckett was feeling nervous was because this was the first time she was attending one of these high society fund raising soirées.

I could have slapped my forehead. I would have kicked myself, if that was humanly possible. I had automatically assumed that she had attended such events previously. She was about to enter a part of my world for the first time.

Wasting little time I assured her that she would do well. I told her that she would knock everyone dead—a poor choice of expression I concede, considering Beckett is a Homicide detective.

I also told her that she would be fine, that she would be the one who would put every other woman in the shade, that she would reduce all of the straight men in the place to gibbering, drooling idiots.

Those remarks managed to elicit a laugh from Beckett. I then turned serious and told her that she was a NYPD detective and from the moment she stepped onto the red carpet she was going to own the place and everyone in it.

I like to think the quiet smile that appeared on Beckett's lips was the results of my efforts to reduce her apprehension. I'm sure Beckett already knew that but just needed someone to remind her.

As we drew near Beckett called up Esposito to give him a heads up on our arrival and to find out if there was any news. Esposito had nothing to report.

XXX

I have walked the red carpet with a number of starlets and models over the years but I can't ever recall one single time the feeling what I was experiencing with Beckett on my arm. There were a few times I wore a smile that said to the entire world: 'I'm going to get laid tonight' or the other favourite; 'hey guys I just got lucky'. On this particular night I had the feeling like I was walking on cloud nine. I was grinning so much my face hurt.

If you ever happen to see photos of that particular fund raising event I can assure you that the smile you see plastered on my face is definitely not fake. It's the genuine article. Then again, I don't think you would be looking at my ruggedly handsome mug, I have no doubt your eyes would be drawn and focused on the beautiful woman on my arm. And honestly, I could not blame you.

Stepping out of the limo I took Beckett by the hand helping her out. We were greeted by a barrage of camera flashes. Tucking her arm through mine we started down the red carpet. I nodded to some acquaintances who were standing around the red carpet before they too headed inside. I glanced at Beckett I noticed that her nervousness had faded and she had a bright smile on her face.

Standing by the red carpet were the boys, Esposito and Ryan. You should have seen the looks on their faces as we approached. Their jaws dropped to the ground when they saw Beckett and her dress.

"Nice dress." Ryan remarked as we passed.

"Yeah, what there is of it." Esposito added.

"I'd let you borrow it, Esposito, but you stretched out the last one." Beckett retorted as we swanned passed them.

Pow! Zing! Take that Esposito, I thought to myself. I cast a grin in her direction and was met with a smile in return.

Inside the ball room we waded through the high society world that I was well familiar with. I introduced Beckett to a few people but as I wanted her to myself we did not stop to chat for too long. A quick word here, a fast hello there, and we moved on. Then I spotted someone I really wanted Beckett to meet.

We approached a tall African American man who was talking to a couple of people.

"Big Cheese!" I called out.

Mayor Robert Weldon excused himself and turned around and broke into a big smile on seeing me.

"Ricky! Ricky! Hey, why didn't you tell me you were going to be at this shindig? I would've given you a ride." Mayor Weldon said as we shook hands.

"Oh, a last minute thing." I explained.

I glanced at Beckett and noticed that her nervousness had returned as she realised who I was speaking to.

"Mr Mayor, I'd like to present to you Detective Kate Beckett." I said. "Kate Beckett, you know the mayor."

"So this is Detective Beckett." Mayor Weldon said with a bright smile.

"It's an hour to meet you sir." Beckett replied as she shook his hand.

"Oh, please call me, Bob." Mayor Weldon looked at me. "Rick, she's even prettier than you said."

"Mmm-mmm" I said in reponse.

Beckett gave me a wide-eyed surprised look.

Mayor Weldon excused himself and moved off to speak some other people who had caught his attention. Beckett stepped up to me.

"You talk about me to _Bob_?" Beckett narrowed her eyes at me.

"Well, we play cards together." I explained. "Well, that and you are the subject of my next book."

The subject of Detective Beckett and my next book was brought up by Bob one night when we were playing poker. He would be interested of course because he was the guy who had pulled the strings to get me to tag along with Beckett and her team. And, I may have waxed lyrical about her. And yes, I may have mentioned that she was pretty.

"Ah." Beckett said nodding her head. Her eyes were looking over the ballroom.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked hurriedly, wanting to change the topic of conversation as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, vodka." Beckett replied. "Lots of vodka."

Suddenly she turned to look at me. "But I'm on duty, so water."

"Yeah." I said. "Vodka."

I left Beckett to survey the people in the ballroom while I made my way over to the bar and ordered two stiff vodka martinis, telling the barman not to shake them but swirl them around a little. While the barman was getting the drinks I looked back to see Beckett standing where I left her. I could not help but think that she looked so beautiful. I noticed a woman had sidled up to Beckett and started a conversation with her. I turned back to see what was taking the drinks so long.

Thankfully the barman did not take long to make the drinks for me and he placed two glasses on the counter before me. I gave him a nod of thanks, picked up the glasses ready to take them back to Beckett. I turned and stopped in my tracks when perky looking young woman approached me. She was with a man.

"Richard. Hi, Rachel Maddox." She introduced herself. "We spoke on the phone."

"Oh thank you very much for getting me the tickets." I said with a graceful smile.

"Thanks for the signed first edition for the auction." Rachel replied.

It had been Anne Green who had given me Rachel's telephone number and before I had joined Beckett who had been waiting for me in her car, I had made a call to Rachel to see if she could get me tickets for this event. The offer of a signed first edition Castle book soon had the requested tickets materialising at the front counter at the 12th Precinct.

"I had my eye on it but it's a little too rich for my blood." The man standing next to Rachel said with a laugh.

Rachel introduced me to her boyfriend Paul Reynolds, adding that he was a huge fan. I replied that it was always nice to meet a fan. Rachel then said that the company was having a little gathering next month for their top donors because the company was going to unveil plans for a new rehearsal space and she wanted me and Alexis to attend.

"You know my daughter?" I asked with some surprise.

"We make a point to know as much as we can about our potential donors." Rachel explained. "So we can match their interests with our programs."

I had a decidedly uncomfortable feeling all of a sudden. I did not like that she knew anything about my daughter. I have always gone to great lengths to keep Alexis out of the limelight. I have always tried to make sure that she have a normal childhood. Well, as normal a childhood having a famous and successful mystery author for a father would allow.

Where did Rachel get this information? How did she get this information, were a couple of questions that raced through my mind. It felt creepy.

"So many places just ask you just to write a check. We want you to know that your money is making a difference." Rachel added with a bright sunny smile.

"Would you excuse me?" I said hurriedly, forcing a smile to my face.

"Sure." Rachel replied.

I set down the to martinis and quickly rushed off. I went off in search of Beckett. She had moved from where I had left her standing but a quick search I managed to locate her and zeroed in on her. Beckett was on the phone probably speaking to one of the boys outside getting an update from them when I reached her. Without warning I grabbed her and drew her onto the dance floor. I extracted the phone from her hand, killed the call and deposited it in my jacket pocket.

We started dancing, thankfully the band was playing and there were other couples moving about on the floor. Beckett shot me a look as we swayed together.

"Castle, what are you doing?" She asked.

"Sorry, this is the only place I knew where we could talk and not be overheard." I explained.

"Sure it is." Beckett replied, rolling her eyes.

If I had not been freaking out little over my conversation with Rachel it would have registered that my hand on Beckett's back was touching skin. Her skin. Her dress had a plunging vee down the back and laced together. I ignored her disdainful remark and continued speaking.

"I was talking to the Head of Donor Development over there."

I twirled Beckett in the direction where Rachel Maddox was standing allowing Beckett to take a look at the woman. A couple of heart beats later I pulled her back into my arms.

"She seems to know an awful lot about me." I told her.

"She's not the only one ." Beckett said. "Did you know they call you the White Whale?"

I pulled back a little so I could see her face. "The White Whale?"

"Mmm-mmm."

"Not Moby...?"

"No." Beckett said firmly.

I later learned that the origins of the moniker White Whale. The name had come up when she had been standing there waiting for me to get the drinks and had struck up a conversation with Ruthie. Beckett had been watching me while I was talking to Rachel and Ruthie informed her who Rachel was and not to sweat it. Ruthie observed that Beckett had landed a big one on the line, and told her to settle in because I was known as a fighter. Ruthie then added that most of the single women on the register had tried to land me, Rich and handsome, and that's when the moniker of 'The White Whale' was mentioned. Come to think of it I haven't learned what Beckett thought of the moniker.

"She's in donor development, It's her job to know about you." Beckett reminded me as we moved about the dance floor. I have to say that we moved quite well there on the dance floor. If I Had not been freaking out about Rachel and what she knew about me and Alexis I would have enjoyed the dance a lot more.

"Besides she doesn't strike me as a criminal mastermind." Beckett added.

"Still, I think we should take a second look." I said. "Two, three...dip."

I dipped Beckett and I should have brought her back up after a moment but I froze as my eyes took in the sight of a dapper looking Powell move through the crowd and slide up beside to Anne Greene and strike up a conversation with her.

"Castle? A little help." Beckett said.

"It's Powell." I hissed.

Remembering that I was holding Beckett in a very awkward position I brought her up to her feet again.

"The jewel thief?" Beckett asked.

My eyes were still focused on Powell and anger bubbled up. I stormed off the dance floor heading directly for Powell leaving an embarrassed looking on the dance floor with many eyes on her. Slowly she started to follow me.

I reached the pair, barely able to contain my anger.

"I don't believe this." I said. "The two of you were in on this?"

Both Powell and Anne turned around startled by my angry appearance.

"Don't look at me." Anne said, she glanced at Powell. "It was his fault."

I faced a grinning Powell. "You really had me going, didn't you? The wine, code of conduct." I said. "And here you are, making me look like a fool."

"I just wanted to have a bit of fun." Powell chuckled.

"Fun? You call what you are doing fun?" I hissed.

"Castle, what's going on?" Beckett asked as she joined me.

"They're in on it together." I said glancing at her. "They've all but admitted it."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea it was such a big deal." Anne said.

"Big d...?Two people are dead!" I said with barely suppressed anger.

Both Powell and Anne look confused.

"Dead? What are you talking about?" Anne asked.

"God lord, Rick." Powell said, still looking shocked. "You didn't think...?"

Now I was confused. I looked from Anne to Powell and saw the looks on their faces.

"Then...what were you two whispering about?" I asked hesitantly.

Powell turned on a full smile and nodded in the direction of the stage. I turned around and saw Rachel Maddox standing before a microphone. Rachel thanked everyone for coming tonight. She told the audience that the time had come to open their hearts and support one of the city's finest causes. And to start the bidding she introduced...wait for it...my mother.

As Mother was greeted by polite applause from the audience with a sinking feeling I slowly turned to face Powell, the smile on his face had deepened.

"What have you done?" I asked warily.

"Just a little payback." Powell informed me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Beckett came to stand beside me and I noticed that she had an amused look on her face. I drew my eyes in the direction of the stage where Mother was thanking the audience for the warm welcome she had received. She held in her hand a copy of my book _Storm Season_, and informed the audience that it was the first item up for bidding. Mother made a point of it to single me out in the audience. The hot spotlight fell on me and I forced a smile to my face and gave a little wave.

Now you would probably be thinking that was the end of my embarrassment, a moment in the spotlight, pointed out by your mother. Well, you don't know Mother. I knew there was more to come. And guess what? I was not wrong.

Mother breezily reminded all the women in the audience that I was still single and as as special bonus, the winning bidder of my book would also be receiving an enchanting evening in my company.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of the other shoe dropping. That other delightful sound, was Beckett laughing at my predicament.

Mother's special bonus unleashed a furious bidding war as a number of women began putting their hands up to place a bid. Mother continued to stoke the bidding war. Ordinarily I would have been flattered having a roomful of women bidding furiously for an evening in the pleasure of my company but not this night. I didn't need this and I certainly did not want this.

I glanced over to Beckett and I saw her looking like she was having more fun than she had in a long time. Her smile was beaming. I would have remarked to her that it was nice to see that my misery brought her so much delight but that thought died as I gazed at her smiling face.

The bidding continued with amounts bid rising higher and higher. I was astonished when a guy put in a bid. I struggled to maintain the smile on my face. There was one woman, dark haired and rather attractive who bid four thousand dollars for me. She gave shot me the kind of predatory look that left me thinking in no uncertain terms exactly what she intended to do with me if she was the winner of the auction and restraints might be used.

Powell leaned into me and continued to smile, his eyes focused on the stage.

"Now, we're even." he said.

For a moment he had me wishing he had slit my throat for forcing him into retirement. This was one of those moments when I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. There was my mother up on the stage auctioning me off as if I was a side of beef. I could not believe it. Had she no shame?

As the bids rose higher and higher, my panic rose right along with them. I turned to Beckett with a pleading look.

"Look, I have money." I said desperately. "Anything you pay, I'll pay you back."

Beckett shook her head, still smiling. "Oh, not a chance in hell, Castle."

I could not believe how much she was enjoying my misery. Looking over Beckett's shoulder I caught sight of Paul Reynolds in the distance. My embarrassment of being auctioned off suddenly evaporated as I watched Reynolds as he snapped photos with his camera phone of the women standing near him, in particularly of the jewellery they wore.

"Hey, whoa, look." I said. "There's Donor Girl's boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, he's taking pictures."

"So? I would, too, if I had a camera." Beckett chuckled.

"Of the crowd?" I questioned.

That got Beckett's attention. She turned around and also saw Reynolds snapping away with his camera phone. She turned back to look at me. The delightful smile that she had been wearing just moments ago was gone. Kate Beckett had gone and in her place was Detective Beckett. She motioned me to follow her and we headed out of the ballroom. I could not get out of there fast enough.

I'm sure you are curious to find out what the winning bid was. An evening with yours truly went for the considerable sum of seven thousand dollars. And yes, I did honour the commitment that my mother and Powell had made for me. And no, it was not Predatory Girl.

XXX

Beckett and I were outside standing on a near deserted red carpet. Just a little a way from us stood Esposito and Ryan. Esposito was on the phone getting Paul Reynolds checked out.

I was trying to convince Beckett that Reynolds was our guy, the inside man.

"It's perfect." I told her. "He IDs the jewels and then uses his girlfriend's research to build profiles on the victims."

From the look on Beckett's face I could see that I did not need to try too hard to convince her about my theory. She was ready to buy it. A moment later she was sold on it.

"Yo, Yahtzee." Esposito announced as he and Ryan approached. "Paul Reynolds, AKA Chad Nichols. He served time on check fraud, embezzlement, forgery and grand larceny."

Beckett nodded her acknowledgement of the information. She cast a glance at me and I saw the glint in her eye that always saw when she was about to arrest someone. She turned on her heels and started walking back into the hotel. Beckett did not need to order us to follow, the boys and I saw the look and we were already right behind her.

We swept through the lobby and straight into the ball room. It was amusing to see people move out Beckett's way like the parting of the sea. I had been right when I had told her earlier that she would own the place.

I spotted Paul Reynolds, he and Rachel were talking to an old lady who was wearing at least a quarter million dollars worth of diamonds and other precious gems around her neck. At least that would have been my estimate if I had been asked my opinion. I pointed Reynolds out to Beckett and all four of us approached.

"Now it does no good to be coy." Reynolds told the old lady with a laugh. "I've seen the looks you've been throwing me all night." The old lady laughed coquettishly.

"Shopping are we?" I inquired once we reached him.

Reynolds turned to look at me confusion covering his face. Rachel also looked confused.

"Paul Reynolds," Beckett announced flashing him her badge, " you're under arrest on suspicion of theft and conspiracy to commit murder."

Esposito and Ryan moved in quickly and cuffed Reynolds and then led him out of the ball room.

Suddenly I was struck by a thought. I glanced at Beckett with a curious look on my face.

"Where was the badge?" I inquired.

"Don't ask." Beckett replied and rolled her eyes. She turned around and headed out. I quickly followed her.

You should know me well enough by now to realise that I had to know where Beckett had kept her badge. In the limo ride back to the precinct I pestered her with that question. What? Did you think I would allow Beckett dressed as she was to ride back to precinct in an ordinary Crown Victoria? The belle of the ball had arrived in a limo and she left the ball in a limo. I must say Beckett did not put up much of an argument when I suggested we ride back in the limo.

As I said, on the ride back I did ask her about the badge. Beckett true to form refused to disclose where she had kept her badge. Questions about the location of her badge were quickly forgotten when she brought up the auction and where was I going to take the lucky winner. Beckett can be no fun sometimes.

XXX

In the bullpen I was sitting in Beckett's chair, relaxing. I had untied my bow tie. I was talking to Ryan, filling him in on some aspects of the ball, some of the A-listers that were there. He seemed rather interested in some of the stories I knew about these people. Some of the escapades that they had gotten into but which had not made it into the papers, magazines or celebrity websites. One or two of the stories I recounted were eyewitness reports but I did not tell him that.

Esposito returned carrying with him a rap sheet. He came over to us.

"Yo, B & E, firearms." Esposito informed us. "Definitely a step up for this guy."

"He's just a foot soldier." Beckett announced, having suddenly appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "We're looking for the general."

I looked up at Beckett and found that she had changed out of the red dress, had washed off the party make up, combed out her hair do and was back in street clothes.

"W...what happened to the dress?" I stammered.

"You didn't think I was going to interrogate him in it, did you?" She replied.

"We were kind of hoping."

Ryan nodded his head while Esposito gave her the once over. Beckett rolled her eyes at us.

Well duh! Of course we wanted her to interview the suspect in that very hot dress. I know if I was on the wrong side of the interrogation table and she was wearing that hot dress I would be willing to confess to any crime she wanted me to, while at the same time asking her out for a drink or dinner or something else, or all of the above.

Still, the vision of Kate Beckett in that dress was indelibly imprinted in my head. Little did I know at that time there would be a far better vision that would be permanently imprinted in my mind and in my heart, one that not even my vivid imagination could ever conjure up. It would be several years before I discovered that particularly delightful surprise.

"Out of my chair, Castle." Beckett ordered, shaking me out of my reveries. I vacated her chair quickly.

Beckett interrogated Paul Reynolds alone. I was in the observation room watching the proceedings. As it turned out Beckett did not need to resort to wearing the red dress to get Reynolds talking. He was more than happy to talk.

Beckett showed Reynolds the artist's sketch of the guy Mitchell had supplied and Reynolds said that he knew the guy. He said that they had met in Green Haven prison. Reynolds said that he would have been eaten alive in there but he said the guy looked after him in the prison yard. Reynolds said that everyone was afraid of this guy, even the prison guards. When Reynolds had been released the guy eventually tracked him. How the guy did it Reynolds did not know.

In answer to Beckett's question if it was the guy's idea for Reynolds to infiltrate the charity, Reynolds confirmed it. He said that he was already seeing Rachel and he was trying to go straight but the guy told him that he owed him.

Reynolds said that everything he needed was already in the dossiers, names, addresses and so on. All Reynolds had to do was take photographs of the donors' jewellery and put all the information on a flash drive and then pass it on to the guy. But the guy wanted more and more.

Reynolds assured Beckett that after that guy had been beaten to death, he wanted out but the guy said that if Reynolds quit, the guy would do everything he had saved him from in prison. He would do it to Rachel as well.

"Tell me where I can find him." Beckett demanded.

Reynolds was only too happy to provide the address where the guy lived. The guy's name by the way was Karl Nadir.

XXX

It was early the next morning when Beckett swung by and picked me up. I was waiting for her out the front of my building. There was no way I was going to miss this arrest. Beckett pulled up shortly and I jumped into the passenger seat. I noticed that she was already wearing her protection vest. Esposito and Ryan were in another car behind us. The detectives must have gotten in very early to the precinct before setting out for Nadir's apartment. I dare say they must not have gotten much sleep. I had left the precinct the night before well after midnight Beckett and the boys were still there working after I departed.

Our two car convoy pulled up in front of the apartment building where Nadir lived. It was a three storey walk up I noticed. Esposito and Ryan were already out of their car and tooling up with Esposito hefting a mean looking shotgun.

Beckett switched off the engine of her car and turned to look at me.

"Castle, as a friend, I'm asking you not to leave this car." She said. "Because your Hardy Boy act..."

"...is going to get me killed, I know." I interjected, nodding my hyead.

"More like get them killed." Beckett retorted, nodding to where Esposito and Ryan were standing. "And I don't want that on my conscience. Understood?"

"What if I have to pee?" I asked in a low voice.

Beckett looked to the dashboard of the car and she picked up an empty coffee cup which she passed to me.

As I looked at the cup Beckett got out of the car and motioned to the boys to get going. They disappeared into the building.

Holding the empty coffee cup I finally came to understand why a lot of cop cars look like portable garbage containers with empty coffee cups strewn all over the place. If you're sitting in a car on a long boring surveillance stint and have been drinking endless cups of coffee to stay awake, the need to pee can become overwhelming and unfortunately they can't leave the stake out. Empty coffee cups come in very handy when you desperately have to go. I set the cup back on the dashboard.

I suddenly recalled something that Beckett had said before getting out of the car. She had called me friend. That brought a smile to my face. I guess we had become friends, not just a writer and his muse. Friends. I liked that. I liked that a lot.

While I was sitting in the car wondering what was going on upstairs and rapidly getting bored, Beckett and the boys had reached the front door of Nadir's apartment. My beautiful, ever inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life gave recounted to me what had happened up there.

Esposito had taken up position on one side of the door and Ryan the other. Beckett was beside Ryan. On a signal from Beckett Esposito pounded on the door.

"NYPD! We have a warrant." He shouted.

When there was no response from inside the apartment, Beckett nodded to Ryan. The Irishman rose from his position and gave a swift kick at the door. The door flew open Beckett burst through the door with the boys right behind her.

They found themselves in a small one bedroom apartment. They found the place empty of Nadir but what they found were maps of the city, dossiers, alarm system schematics, photographs of jewellery, press cuttings of the recent home invasions. There was some equipment sitting on a table as well a gruesome keepsake. A severed finger in a glass jar.

Ryan moved over to a bench and touched a half filled coffee mug. He found it warm to touch.

"His coffee. It's still warm." He announced. "We must have just missed him."

"Looks like we got the right place." Esposito remarked surveying the apartment and what they had found in there.

Beckett too had been surveying the apartment. As she was looking around she turned in the direction of the open door. She spotted Nadir holding a grocery bag. On seeing Beckett Nadir dropped the grocery bag turned and fled.

"Stop! Police!" Beckett shouted then set after him.

Beckett chased Nadir down the hallway and out to a small outdoor area. Nadir dashed through an iron gate and closed it behind him. Beckett reached the gate only to find it had been locked. She turned to look at the approaching Esposito and Ryan.

"Follow him out back!" She ordered them.

The boys skidded to a halt, changed direction and started running. Beckett followed them.

I had become bored sitting in the car and decided to amuse myself to while away the time until Beckett and the boys returned with Nadir in handcuffs. I shifted over from the passenger seat and settled myself behind the wheel. All of a sudden I let my imagination have a bit of free rein. I picked up the radio handset and pretended to key the mike.

"This is Detective Castle to all units." I said in a voice that sounded like Dirty Harry. "That's a negatory on the back up. This dirtbag's all mine."

For a few minutes I was pretending I was in a car chase and I provided my own action-hero theme music. I have to admit I was having a bit of fun as I chased the suspect's car speeding ahead of me. You should have seen the grin on my face.

The pretend car chase was suddenly interrupted by the very loud thump of a body landing on the hood of the car. The car rocked at the impact. It made me jump let me tell you. Staring out the windshield I came face to face with Karl Nadir. I knew it was Nadir because a copy of the artist's sketch was pinned to the dashboard.

As Nadir struggled to recover from the fall and impact with the car hood I found myself wondering what to do. I was still startled by Nadir dropping in on me. I turned on the wipers, thinking it might slow him down. It didn't, it only made the guy angry.

Nadir rolled off the hood and came around to the driver's side of the car and he pointed a gun at me.

"Out of the car!" Nadir shouted as he waved the gun at me.

"I...she...told me, actually, I have to stay in the..." I stammered.

I was trying to stall for time to allow Beckett and the boys to arrive. Nadir was not in the mood to play along. I had to resort to Plan B.

"Out of the car now!" Nadir roared angrily.

"Okay! Okay, okay. Here I come. I'm coming." I replied.

Nadir started reaching for the car door. I was quicker. I opened the door and slammed it into Nadir knocking him back. I flew out of the car and tackled him to the ground. We began rolling around on the ground. Nadir ended up on top of me. Before I could get a chance to recover he punched me right in the face. I saw stars for a few moments.

Nadir scrambled over me and reached for the gun that had fallen from his grasp when I slammed the car door into him. Just as his fingers curled around the weapon a high heel boot landed hard on his wrist making him cry out in pain. Looking up Nadir found himself staring down the barrel of a police issue Glock 9mm automatic being held by an angry looking Beckett.

"Go ahead, I need the practice." She told him coldly.

Nadir released his hold on the gun. Esposito and Ryan fell on him. Esposito brushed the gun away while Ryan quickly cuffed him. Once Nadir was secured he was heft to his feet and hauled over to their car.

Beckett picked up the other gun and slid it into the waist band of her jeans. Holstering her own weapon she walked over to where I was sitting on the ground. I wiped away the tears from eyes and looked up at Beckett.

"I tried to stay in the car." I explained, sounding like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar knowing he is going to be punished. "I really did."

Beckett did not seem to be too upset I had disobeyed her yet again if the small smile on her face was anything to go by. She held out her hand down to me. I took hold of her hand she helped me to my feet.

"He hit me in the face, you know." I added. I was going to have a real shiner come tomorrow.

"Yeah, I saw that." Beckett said, the smile remaining on her lips.

"That, uh, 'Go ahead. I need the practice', that was classic." I said eagerly.

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head but her smile deepened.

On the ride back to the precinct the excitement of having helped to capture the bad guy allowed my inner nine year old to reveal himself. I started up the action-hero theme music I had been humming earlier on. To her credit Beckett did not call me out on it for a few minutes but eventually it got on her nerves and warned me. I pipped down immediately only to start it up a couple of minutes later. Nine year old Castle quickly returned from whence he came when Beckett glanced at me and threatened to give me another black eye so I could have a matching pair.

XXX

The following morning I was holding court in the kitchen making eggs for my two favourite red heads. There was a knock on the door which Mother went to answer. She returned a few moments later.

"Darling, we have a visitor." Mother announced.

I looked up from the stove and was delighted to find Beckett standing there.

"Oh, pretty butch, Castle." Beckett said smiling.

"I know, right?" I replied smiling. "Come, grab a chair." I motioned to her.

"Oh no. I just came to return your mom's jewellery." Beckett protested.

"You saved my life." I told her. "The least I can do is make you some eggs."

"No, really, I have to get going." Beckett said hesitantly.

"Nonsense. You sit down right here." Mother insisted. "Tell us about the other night. We have only heard his version."

Mother gently eased Beckett onto a stool and Alexis quickly poured her a cup of coffee. My two red heads can easily persuade anyone when they set their minds to it. Beckett slowly relaxed and smiled brightly as she settled in.

"Shall I start at the red carpet?" Beckett asked.

My two red heads said yes.

As Beckett began to tell her version of what happened the other night at the ball to an eager audience of two I moved to plate up some eggs. I turned to look at the scene before me. All of a sudden there appeared a vision in my mind's eye.

It was set not too many years into the future and was almost identical to the one before me now. It was of my mother, my daughter and my wife deep in conversation. It took my breath away. I quickly shook it off and brought over the plate setting it down in front of Beckett and then joined in the storytelling.

XXXXX

_**There you have it the end of another case. As always your reviews are greatly appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The Case of Ghosts

Part 1

Being a master of the macabre I am no stranger to the numerous ways a person can be killed. Since I have been shadowing Detective Beckett I have added some more ways people meet unfortunate demises at the hands of other people. I could list all the gruesome ways people have been murdered but if I did then you would be bringing up your lunch or dinner or something, so, I will spare you that.

Apart from the gruesome, there are the unusual. Ones which leave you scratching your head in wonder. This was one such case where the victim was pushed off their mortal coil in a most unusual manner.

The commencement of the case had its prelude at Casa Castle. I had invited Captain Montgomery, the boys and Detective Beckett over to the loft for a poker night. It had been a busy couple of weeks and I felt that they were all need of a poker night. Much to my delight they all accepted the invitation.

Mother who had nothing on this night joined us at the table to even the numbers up and entertained us in between hands with anecdotes from her years treading the boards and sprinkling in some of the more embarrassing stories from my younger years. Thank you Mother.

I have to say that it was quite an enjoyable evening where we could all relax, have a beer, exchange a bit of good natured trash talk, win a bit of money, lose a bit of money, discuss some cases, listen to Mother regale us with some of her more risqué tales from the stage, sit there with a red face as Mother recounted the tale of the time I almost burnt down the kitchen. No, you don't need to hear that story. It's best if it's only told once every couple of decades.

The witching hour was almost upon us. Esposito began to deal out the cards to everyone.

"Alright, everyone, last hand for the night." He announced.

"Oh phooey!" Mother said as she glanced at her watch. "It's not even midnight."

"Some people have jobs to go to in the morning." I reminded her.

"Oh, my son, the working stiff." She intoned, over dramatically I might add.

Looking around the table I saw everyone grinning, especially Beckett. She seemed to enjoy watching me squirm. Now there's a surprise.

Mother glanced at the cards she had been dealt and made a face.

"Ugh, phooey. I fold." she announced and pushed her cards away from her.

"If you don't mind me saying Ms R, you fold a lot." Ryan grinned.

"I just don't believe in stringing along a bad hand." Mother replied. "Why waste time?"

That was a philosophy Mother applied not only to poker but to husbands and boyfriends.

"Actually," I said with a small grin on my face. "Mother's game isn't Texan Hold 'Em. It's strip poker. Keeps things humming along, if you know what I mean."

"Well, frankly, I prefer Strip poker because even when you lose, you win." Mother said. She winked at Beckett who laughed at the remark.

"Raise twenty." Ryan said and tossed his chips onto the pot.

"Call." Montgomery replied.

My eyes were drawn to Beckett. Her face was a mask as she glanced at her cards and considered what to do. Setting the cards down she reached a decision.

"Make it a hundred." She announced. She tossed the chips into the middle.

"A hundred bucks?" Esposito questioned.

"Man up, bro." Beckett challenged.

The Captain called again.

"Really?" Esposito complained. He made a face. "I'm out."

Ryan joined his partner in folding.

"What about you, Castle? You're already in for the blind. Not scared of a little action?" Beckett taunted.

"Action, is my middle name." I replied with a grin.

I picked up chips worth one hundred dollars and tossed them onto the pile.

Mother leaned closer to Beckett and smiled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, he's bluffing." Mother said. "Whenever he blinks too much, it means he's got a lousy hand."

"Mother." I chided.

"Well..." Mother gave me a shrug of her shoulders.

"Alright, here we go." Esposito announced and proceeded to flop three cards onto the middle of the table.

The cards that Esposito flopped over were a pair of sevens and a deuce. On the inside I was doing cartwheels because I now had a full house. The pot was all but mine. I cast a quick look over to Beckett and caught her quickly checking her cards. I caught an ever so brief twitch of her eyebrows. I'm sure none of if the others sitting at the table caught it but I did.

Observing Detective Beckett had become more than an exercise in research, it had become more than a hobby. It was one of my favourite pastimes. That ever so brief twitch of her eyebrows told me that the cards that had been flopped onto the table had not been the ones she had been hoping for.

"There it is." Esposito declared.

"Uh-oh." Mother said, looking at me.

"What?" Beckett inquired.

"He's not blinking, but now he's tapping." Mother confided to Beckett. "This means he might have the nuts."

I was tapping on the cards as I was thinking but I did not appreciate Mother revealing that to everyone else at the table. I was also a little disconcerted about the terminology that she used. I did not call her out on that because I was thinking about what to do.

Beckett looked at me. I grinned back at her.

"What's the matter?" I asked her. "You're not afraid of a little action, are you?"

It was amusing to throw her words back in her face just to see her reaction. Beckett regarded me a moment.

"All in." She announced. _'Challenge accepted Mr Castle'_, the look she gave me seemed to say.

I watched as she pushed the healthy sized collection of poker chips that she had accumulated during the evening, across the table shoving it against the already large pile that had been sitting in the pot.

"Whoa" Esposito gasped.

"Ooh! Take him down Beckett." Montgomery said with a laugh.

"Yeah, make him pay." Esposito cheered.

"Can't write your way out of this one, huh, Castle." Ryan chuckled.

I'm a pretty good poker player. Who am I trying to kid? I'm a very good poker player. Good enough to have played in some of those big money poker tournaments in Vegas, winning even one of them. One thing about playing poker is that I don't like to lose but being a very good poker player, I don't lose all that often.

I glanced down at my cards. It was probably one of the best hands I had for the entire evening. I looked across the table to where Beckett was sitting. Her stoney-faced expression told me a lot. It told me that she had a bad hand and she was trying to bluff me.

So it was just me and Beckett, all in. What to do? Well, I have to tell you, for the first time I could ever remember I found that I did not want to win. If my writer crew poker buddies ever found out about what I was thinking they would have slapped my face. I looked at my cards one final time. So let them slap my face, I thought. I folded as I put a suitably disappointed look on my face.

Both Captain Montgomery and the boys cheered Beckett on her victory. The delighted look on Beckett's face as she scooped up the winning pot was well worth throwing away a good hand, a winning hand.

"Maybe some one should change their middle name to 'loser'" Beckett chuckled.

"Loser." Captain Montgomery chorused and laughed.

"What can I say?" I shrugged unhappily. "This just wasn't my night."

I rose from my chair and gathered up the empty beer bottles and took them into the kitchen.

While everyone was starting getting ready to leave, Beckett's phone started ringing. She stopped gathering her chips and answered the call.

"Yeah, we'll be there in twenty." Beckett told the caller and then rang off. She saw the boys looking at her expectantly.

"Homicide on Henry Street." She announced.

"I'll take care of this for you." Mother said as she started stacking Beckett's winnings.

"Thank you." Beckett said with a smile.

"Well, at least you guys are already downtown." Montgomery remarked.

The boys had gotten to their feet and were pulling on their coats. They did not appear too enthusiastic to have gotten a late night call out to a homicide.

"But it's after midnight!" Mother declared.

"Murder never sleeps, Ms R." Ryan informed her.

"Yeah and neither do we." Esposito said, sourly.

I was just returning from my little trip to the kitchen when I saw the guys getting ready to leave. I also noticed that Captain Montgomery was still sitting. My eyes lit up with excitement.

"Whoa, did someone say 'murder'?" I said unable to hide my excitement. "Hold on, I'll get my coat!"

I turned and dashed in the direction of the hallway closet.

"Look at him, all exited." Esposito smirked.

"Yeah, like a kid at Christmas." Beckett observed, with a smile on her face.

"With a dead body under the tree." Ryan added.

That last remark made Beckett laugh.

Having put on my coat I was holding open the front door for Beckett and the boys. I followed them out after waving to Mother and Captain Montgomery.

XXX

The location of the murder scene was the bathroom of a SRO of a rundown looking hotel not far from Chinatown. On arriving we found Dr Lanie Parish standing by the bathtub where the body lay, making notes on her clipboard. The body of a woman was floating in some thick black liquid that seemed to fill most of the tub.

"Is that motor oil?" Beckett asked the medical examiner.

"Looks like it." Lanie replied. "But I'll have to pump out the tub and run some tests to be sure."

Esposito had moved over and opened a wooden cupboard and found it full of empty motor oil containers. Quite a few empty containers. He picked a couple up in his gloved hands and showed them to us.

"It's motor oil alright." He informed us. "10w-40. Empties in the closet."

"What kind of freak drowns a woman in motor oil?" Ryan asked, distaste writ large across his face.

That was good question Detective Ryan posed. I was looking at the body in the tub. Only the woman's face was above the surface. It reminded me of that scene from _Star Wars_ where Han Solo was encased in carbonite. I shook off that thought and returned to pondering the question that Ryan had posed.

Like I said there are some methods of committing murder that leave you scratching your head in wonder. Well I offered up an answer to the detectives.

"Someone's trying to send a message." I announced.

Beckett and I left the boys in the bathroom while we headed downstairs to speak to the night manager. The lobby of the hotel looked seedy and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint which judging by things would be any time soon.

The night manager was stationed behind the front desk which was caged, I'm not sure what for to protect him from some of the inhabitants of this establishment or them from him. He looked like your run of the mill jaded night manager straight out of central casting, in his mid forties, overweight, unshaven and a bored expression permanently etched on his face.

"I already told the uniforms, once people check in, I don't know what they do up there." Night manager said.

"Her purse was missing and she didn't have an ID on her." Beckett said. "Any chance she paid for the room with a credit card?"

The night manager moved over to the ledger sitting on the bench and flipped through the pages. Finding the right page he gave it a quick look before he answered.

"All I can tell you is, whoever rented the room on Friday paid cash for a five day stay." The night manager said. He looked up at Beckett. "They were supposed to be out tonight, so near midnight I went up to check if the place was empty, and I found her in the tub. Gonna be a bitch to clean it."

Night manager guy's compassion for the demise of a fellow human being was so underwhelming.

"So if anybody was meeting her her..." I said.

"It's not like the guests arrive and I ring them up." Night Manager guy snapped. "This aint the Ritz."

"Clearly." I shot back.

"What about tonight?" Beckett asked him. "Anyone strange coming or going?"

Night manager guy shook his head.

My attention was suddenly drawn to a transvestite hooker who saunted past the front desk. He/she was well over six feet tall with a fake blonde wig, a mini skirt that should have been a crime for being so short, high heels and an unshaven face. The sight sent a shudder through me.

"Hey Bill." Said the hooker in a low as he/she walked past.

"Jasmine. How they hanging." Night manager guy replied nonchalantly.

I turned to look at Beckett. She did not seem too perturbed at the sight of the tranny hooker.

"I think he just described half their clientèle." I remarked.

An amused smile swept across the face of Detective Beckett as she took another look at the departing hooker. After getting all we could get from the murder scene and the rest of the hotel it was getting on to pretty late. Beckett called a halt to proceedings and sent us all home.

On returning home to the loft sleep proved a little elusive initially. The sight of 'Jasmine' kept popping into my head, disturbing my sleep. Thankfully I had a surefire standby to send me off to dreamland. The memory of Kate Beckett in that hot red dress. Better than counting sheep, let me tell you.

XXX

Early next morning Beckett and I found ourselves in the morgue standing by the table where the body of the woman lay. I noticed that the body looked far different than what we had seen early this morning. She had been cleaned up and given a little more dignity than her killer had done.

What I also noticed was that Dr Parish looked as fresh as daisy and I could not help but wonder if she had gotten any sleep. More likely she had worked through the night doing the autopsy and have a report ready for Beckett and then she would head off home.

"Unidentified woman, early forties. Good health." Lanie reported. "She's wearing a wedding ring, but there's no inscription."

"Cause of death?" Beckett asked.

"Drowning." Lanie replied. "And there's a nasty contusion on the back of her head."

"So somebody hit hear hard enough to know her out and then gave her a motor oil bath." Beckett surmised.

Lanie reached over to a side table and picked up a plastic evidence bag and held it up so that we could see.

"And I found this in one of her pockets." Lanie said. "Ticket stub for the Metro-North. Our victim took the train from Westchester yesterday morning."

That piece of news raised my eyebrows.

"Westchester to lower Manhattan? That's a long way to go for a lube job." I remarked. I turned to look at Beckett and grinned. "See, when married ladies go to cheap hotels, it's always about sex."

"Or drugs." Beckett replied swiftly.

"The sample in one of the glasses tested positive for Remian." Lanie announced.

"The sleeping pill?" Beckett said, her brow rising up a little.

"Mm-mmm" Lanie nodded.

"This was not a crime of passion." I asserted. "That room was rented for five days, and someone stocked the place up with motor oil. That takes planning."

"And nice suburban ladies don't just take the train into the city and return without somebody noticing." Beckett added.

Thanking Lanie for the information she had provided, Beckett and I left the morgue and returned to the precinct.

XXX

Once back at the precinct I assumed my favourite past time, watching Beckett. She was at her desk doing some work and I was sitting in my chair beside her desk nursing a cup of coffee and watching her.

Esposito approached Beckett holding a sheet of paper in his hand. Beckett had given him to job of checking out all the missing person reports for the past week or so. Judging from the small grin on his face, I got the feeling he had struck pay dirt in his search.

"Irvington PD logged a call last night from a Michael Goldman." He announced on his arrival. Both Beckett and I looked up at him. "Wanted to report his wife, Allison missing. Clothing and description match. Said she went into the city for work and never came back. Said he 'knew' something was wrong."

"Poor guy." I said. "Unless...he's the killer, and he's covering his tracks by calling the police before the body is discovered."

"How about we question him before we convict him?" Beckett said arching an eyebrow at me.

Beckett rose to her feet and picked up her folio and looked at Esposito.

"You got an address?"

Esposito passed over to Beckett a folded piece of paper. Beckett nodded her head in thanks.

I quickly set down my cup of coffee and got to my feet and fell into step beside Beckett as we headed out of the bullpen.

XXX

The trip up to Westchester county and Irvington in particular was uneventful. I was actually on my best behaviour. Hard to believe, I know but it's true. I did not feel the need to change the music station that Beckett had playing. We actually spent the time discussing the case.

Michael Goldman was a man of average height, aged in his early fifties. Grief covered his face as he studied two photographs of his wife Allison that Beckett had passed to him to look at. One of the photos was one of Allison laying on a slab in the morgue.

We were sitting in the Goldman's living room. It was a large room furnished with furniture that could be bought at any discount furniture place. It was neat and tidy with the right amount of mementos and family photographs.

"I don't understand." Goldman said looking up from the photos. "Where did you say she was found?"

"At an SRO in the city." Beckett informed him.

Goldman frowned in confusion.

"It's a single room occupancy." She explained. "It's like a transient hotel."

"Why would she be in a place like that?" Goldman asked.

"Can you think of anyone she might have been meeting?" I asked.

"No." Goldman said firmly. He glanced at Beckett before speaking again. "My wife and I were happily married, Detective. We had no secrets."

"You told the police last night that your wife went into the city for her job?"

Goldman nodded his head. "She was working part time." He said. "We'd some financial setbacks last few years. I'd been laid off. Then we had to give up the apartment."

"How did your wife handle the suburbs?" I inquired.

A wave of grief passed over Goldman's face before he spoke telling us that his wife missed the city. So a couple of months ago she got herself a job working three days a week at a clothing boutique in Manhattan, a little place on 72nd called Lehanes. Goldman paused again as he was overcome with emotion. Gathering himself he went on to say that she had told him that working there reminded her of the good old days.

Beckett asked Goldman a couple more questions before winding up the interview. Before we jumped into the car to head back into the city Beckett pulled out her phone and made a call to Esposito and told him to contact Allison's employer.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts on this effort would be greatly appreciated, Dear Reader.**_

_**Con **_


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The Case of Ghosts

Part 2

We got back to the city around lunchtime. Beckett was all for returning to the precinct as quickly as possible and getting on with the case. I, on the other hand was feeling more than a little peckish and suggested that we stop to grab something to eat. This resulted in a back and forth that lasted over five minutes with neither of us willing to back down.

The matter was resolved in my favour, I'm pleased to say, when we were stopped at a set of lights waiting for them to change and there erupted a rather loud growl from Beckett's stomach.

There was an adorable look of embarrassment on Beckett's face following her tummy growl. I said nothing as I was trying not to laugh and worsen Beckett's sense of embarrassment. So lunch it was.

Beckett took me to a place not far from the precinct, a place called Remys. I fell in love with the place immediately. It had a nice friendly, comfortable feel about it. And let me tell you, the burgers there are to die for. We were more than a little late in getting back to the precinct. Over lunch Beckett and I discussed the case a little bit and I then regaled her with a few amusing anecdotes that we forgot about the time.

Back at the precinct Beckett was at her desk working and I was sitting next to her desk doing what I always enjoyed doing, observing her. Esposito approached her desk. Ryan had returned from the break room after doing a coffee run. He handed me my cup of coffee which I accepted with a nod of gratitude.

Esposito reported what he had found. He said he had been trying to compile a timeline of Allison Goldman's last hours and as instructed he had called up the owner of the boutique and told the owner he wanted to speak about her employee Allison. Esposito paused in his briefing.

"And?" Beckett prompted when Esposito had dragged out the silence for a little too long.

"And she says 'who'?" Esposito said.

"Allison didn't work there." I said.

"Not yesterday, not ever." Esposito added.

Beckett frowned at the news she had been given. "Well, if she wasn't going into the city three times a week for a job, then what was she doing there?"

"And how did she come home Friday night with four hundred bucks in cash for the family kitty?" Esposito added.

"Maybe Castle was right. Maybe this is about sex." Ryan suggested.

"The lady was a soccer mom." Esposito smirked.

"Come by my daughter's school at about 3.30." I said. "The place is like happy hour."

More than a few times back in the days when I used to pick Alexis up after school those so called soccer moms all but attacked me. Perhaps I'm exaggerating a little bit but not much. I got so many propositions you would not believe it. There were many times I would come home and digging into my jacket pockets I would pull out cards and pieces of paper with telephone numbers scribbled on them. They had been slipped in there when I had been accosted by these soccer moms, who by the way hunted in packs. As fluttering as that attention was, and there were one or two that were very easy on the eye, I never took up any of the offers. Hard to believe, I know. The reason is I didn't want to embarrass Alexis by getting into some entanglement with one of those ladies.

"Maybe she had a boy friend." Beckett suggested.

"Yes...a boyfriend." I said. I set aside my coffee and rose to my feet and moved over to stand between Esposito and Ryan.

"Someone she met in a line at Zabar's." I suggested, warming up my storytelling mode. "Or one afternoon at the museum when she ducked in to escape a rainstorm."

"Yeah." Esposito said, drawn into the story I was spinning.

I cast a glance in Beckett's direction and caught sight of her rolling her eyes but that only spurred me on.

"Maybe it was someone she already knew from the city." I said. "Someone who reminded her of when times were good, before she had to give up that cute apartment with the partial river view."

"Someone who was slipping her a little cash while he was slipping her something else." Esposito said.

"Yeah." I agreed. "Allison Goldman wouldn't have some cheap affair. This person would have had to have meant something to her."

From out of the corner of my eye I saw that Beckett slowly shaking her head and rolling her eyes at me. I tried to keep the grin away from my face.

"Someone who cared for her. Someone who listened to her." I continued. "Only now, he wanted a little more in return for his...investment, something she wasn't willing to do."

"Like leave her husband." Esposito suggested.

"And when she wouldn't, he got violent." Ryan added.

"Yep." Esposito agreed.

"You know, I feel so stupid." Beckett called out, sarcasm dripping from her voice, as she sat there leaning back in her chair looking up at the boys and me. "Here I am looking for evidence, and all I had to do was just make something up."

Beckett straightened up and fixed us with one of her looks.

"So this imaginary boyfriend-killer, do you think that he has an imaginary address?" She asked.

Further conversation about the imaginary boyfriend-killer was interrupted by the appearance in the bullpen of a shell-shocked looking Michael Goldman. On hearing her name being called out, Beckett turned around to find Goldman standing there.

"Mr Goldman? What is it?" She asked as she rose from her chair.

"Is...is there somewhere we can talk, Detective?" Goldman asked.

Beckett escorted Goldman to the interview lounge. I was going to hang back and leave it to Beckett to handle the matter but a look from her had me joining her. Beckett and I sat on one couch with Goldman sitting opposite us.

"My lawyer called the Social Security office this morning to let them know that Allison had passed." Goldman said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He passed over the paper to Beckett.

"He faxed this to me about two hours ago."

Beckett unfolded the paper and looked at it. "A death certificate?"

"Yeah, for Allison Porter." Goldman said. "Now, Porter was my wife's maiden name."

I saw Beckett's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"But this says Allison Porter died in 1963." Beckett said.

Goldman nodded his head. "When she was three months old. But this child's Social Security Number is the same as my wife's. My wife was not the woman she said she was. Our whole life together was a lie."

Goldman turned away from us as he was overcome with devastation.

Wow, well I did not see that coming and judging from the look on Beckett's face neither did she. Beckett escorted a very devastated Michael Goldman to the elevators sending him off with the promise that she would get to the bottom of all of this.

As I sat there in the lounge the question that revolved around in my head was, who was the woman laying on the slab in the morgue? And why was she killed? Okay, two questions. I could not help but think Beckett, the boys and I had our work cut out for us to get to the bottom of this.

XXX

The following morning I was holding court in the kitchen preparing breakfast for my two favourite red heads. The case, as you would imagine was occupying my thoughts. Alexis was seated on a stool dressed ready for school. As per usual I was telling Alexis about the case and the sudden and unexpected turn in the investigation.

"So, for twenty years, this woman was living under a false name?" Alexis said.

I nodded my head.

"That's crazy." Alexis added.

"Yeah, her husband was pretty shaken up." I replied.

Mother had swanned into the kitchen and perched herself by the island beside her granddaughter.

"Trust me on this kiddo." Mother said, looking at me. "When a woman marries a man and doesn't bother to tell him who she is for twenty years, she's a criminal. Mata Hari. Shady lady."

"Or in other words, a very good actress." I grinned.

"Speaking of which, you seem to have inherited a bit of my talent." Mother said, with a knowing smile on her face.

"Oh? How so?"

"The poker game." Mother said. "You let Beckett win."

O-oh.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. I turned to the sink to deposit some plates.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said carefully.

I had a rapidly sinking feeling of knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

"Oh come on." Mother scoffed. "I checked your cards."

Busted. Slowly I turned around to face Mother.

"I...I didn't want to take her money in front of all her friends." I offered.

"Kate Beckett is not some bimbo who needs big, strong you to look out for her." Mother said firmly. "She's a real woman. And a real woman does not want to be patronized."

"She's right, Dad." Alexis piped up, nodding her head.

I looked at my darling daughter not quite believing that she was siding with her grandmother in this matter.

"Yeah." Mother added.

"I was trying to be nice." I offered.

Judging from the looks my two favourite redheads were shooting at me I got the distinct impression that they did not quite believe the excuse I had offered up. Thankfully I was saved by the bell, or in this case by my phone ringing. It was the real woman in question calling to find out if I wanted to come down to the precinct. They had Allison Goldman's laptop. I said I would be down there right away. I could not get out of the loft fast enough.

XXX

At the precinct Beckett, the boys and I were all huddled around Ryan's desk looking at Allison Goldman's computer.

"Allison Goldman's email account. Allison writes, 'Lee can we meet on Tuesday instead this week?' Lee writes back, 'Sounds good. The usual place?'" Ryan said reading off the email that he had called up on the screen.

"Tuesday, the day that she was murdered." Beckett pointed out.

"So Allison's imaginary boyfriend had a very real email account." I remarked.

"He goes by the name of Lwax220." Ryan said. "The husband said it didn't sound familiar."

"Cyber tracked it down." Esposito added. "Check this, Castle, the guy's a writer."

"A real writer or an 'I took a course at the Learning Annex' writer?" I asked.

Esposito turned the computer screen on his desk so that I could have a look of the website that he had called up. I took a look at the website on display.

"Well his name is Lee Wax. He writes true crime." Esposito said.

"Bobby Socks and Blood: The true Story of a cheerleader, an Eagle Scout and the crime that shocked America." I intoned in a deep voice-over kind of voice that tabloid TV type shows love to use.

"Well maybe he got tired of writing of other peoples' murders and decided to commit one of his own." Beckett suggested.

XXX

A couple of hours later Beckett and I were riding an elevator heading up to Lee Wax's apartment. Obtaining the address for the apartment was not all that difficult. Ryan was tasked with getting an address. He made a few calls and not long after he returned to Beckett's desk with the address details on a folded piece of paper which he handed over. Beckett and I were soon heading out of the bullpen.

In the elevator I noticed Beckett reaching into her jacket and a moment later was holding out a wad of cash. I looked at the proffered money and then at Beckett who was looking up at the floor indicator.

"What's this?" I inquired.

"Your winnings from the other night." Beckett replied. She turned her head to look at me. "I'm not an idiot. I know you threw the last hand."

My eyes narrowed as I took the money from her. "How did you figure it out?"

"That's not the point." Beckett shrugged as she turned away.

It took only a couple of seconds to figure it out.

"Oh, my mother called you, didn't she?"

I was not surprised that Mother had called Beckett especially after that little talk in the loft we had in the morning.

The elevator arrived on the floor and we stepped out and started down the hallway.

"You owe me a rematch." Beckett announced.

"Fine. You want to play? Let's play. How about tomorrow night?" I suggested.

Beckett glanced at me. "With your mystery buddies?"

"What, are you kidding? No, no, Those guys would eat you alive." I replied.

Truth be told I was afraid for my mystery writer buddies. Don't get me wrong. We are good friends but when it comes to poker it's everyone for themselves, there are no beg pardons. And they all hate to lose. I had no doubt at all that Beckett would enchant them and then coolly relieve them of their money and they wouldn't know what had happened.

"I was thinking something a little more local." I said. "My Gotham City crew. Guys I beat on a regular basis."

"Your 'Gotham City crew'?" Beckett raised a questioning eyebrow in my direction.

"Yeah. The Captain, the Mayor, and Judge Markway. You know, your boss, your boss's boss, and the guy that signs your warrants." I informed her. Not receiving an immediate response from Beckett I continued. "Or would that make you nervous? I mean, I wouldn't want to throw your game, but I also don't want you to feel patronized."

Beckett threw me a glare. "Just set it up." she said. "And prepare to get your ass kicked."

I could not help but grin at her challenge. Challenged accepted I thought to myself.

We reached the front door of Wax's apartment. Beckett knocked loudly on the door. Both of us startled when the door slowly opened. We exchanged a surprised look. Beckett's hand hovered near her holstered gun as she pushed the door further open and stepped into the apartment.

The apartment was one of those studio apartments that many people would give a limb for. It was large and airy, tastefully decorated. Beckett called out but received no response. She moved further into the apartment. I noticed a large table and moved towards it.

I was surprised to find the table was strewn with newspaper clippings and photos of Allison Goldman, there was a writing pad filled with notes. On a board there were more photos of Allison and notes, and more newspaper clippings. Beckett came over to where I was standing.

"Look who's stalking." I remarked as I surveyed the table.

"Stay here." Beckett ordered and moved to inspect the other rooms in the apartment.

I walked up to the board and studied it.

"Who the hell are you?" Demanded an angry voice.

On spinning around I saw a pretty woman aged in her mid to late twenties with dark brown hair and intense blue eyes. She was standing near the doorway holding an empty plastic garbage can. There was a scowl on her face as she stared at me.

"Who the hell are you?" I responded.

"Lee Wax." She replied. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"You're a woman." I said with some surprise.

I know what you're thinking; 'very observant Castle'. Well you have to understand my moment of astonishment. We had all been thinking that Lee Wax was a guy so it came as a surprise to find that Lee Wax was not a guy at all but a woman. A rather pretty woman at that.

"You...either tell me who you are right now, or I'm calling the cops." Lee demanded.

I had my mouth open ready to reply but I was beaten by the appearance of Beckett. He strolled back into the room holding up her badge for Lee to see.

"I am the cops." she said. "Detective Beckett, we would like to ask you some questions about Allison Goldman."

Suddenly Lee's demeanour changed. One moment she was angry and ready to scream the house down and then next she was putting the garbage can down and smiling as she moved towards her phone.

"Allison? Oh, just...uh, let me get my lawyer." Lee said quickly.

"Why do you need a lawyer?" Beckett asked.

"Why do you think?" Lee replied with a grin.

"So, you're confessing?" I said.

Lee had the phone in her hand and was rifling through her phone book. She paused to look at us.

"No, I'm not confessing to anything." Lee smiled. "It's just, my publisher instructed me not to talk to law enforcement until I had a lawyer present."

"Your publisher?" Beckett said sounding confused.

"You know, I would like to state for the record that I never harboured nor did I conceal, a fugitive." Lee added.

"What are you talking about?" Beckett demanded.

Yeah, what was she talking about. I was as confused as Beckett looked. I could only shrug my shoulders and shake my head in answer to the questioning look she shot me.

"Allison Goldman." Lee said. "If that's why you're here, then obviously you've found her."

"Yes." Beckett said. "Murdered."

Now it was Lee's turn to look confused.

"Murdered? Murdered by who?"

"Well given your unhealthy obsession for her, I'm going to take a wild stab at you." I said.

"Me?" Lee exclaimed in surprise. "No, I'm a ghost writer. We were working on her memoir."

"Memoir? Why would Allison Goldman need a memoir?" Beckett asked her.

My eyes were drawn back to the table filled with all those photos and press clippings and an assortment of other documents. In particular there was something that caught my eye, something that looked like a FBI most wanted poster. I started to pull it out of the pile it was under.

"Wait, so you don't know who she really is?" Lee said in surprise.

"We do now." I announced.

I passed the wanted to poster to Beckett and she examined it. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at what she was reading.

"Apparently, our Westchester housewife was also a fugitive." I said.

XXX

Beckett and I returned to the precinct and we cordially invited Lee Wax to accompany us. Realising she had no choice in the matter Lee was only too happy to come back to the precinct. Lee was deposited in one of the interrogation rooms while Beckett gathered some background information on Lee and on the crime that Allison Goldman had been wanted for.

A little later armed with the information Beckett and I were heading to the interrogation room when we ran into Captain Montgomery. Beckett passed to him the FBI wanted poster.

"That's Allison Goldman?" Captain Montgomery said studying the wanted poster.

"AKA Cynthia Dern." Beckett said. "In 1989, she and two friends set off a bomb on a tanker owned by a big oil company."

"I remember this." Captain Montgomery said as he passed back the wanted poster. "Some radical environmentalists protesting the Exxon Valdez spill."

"Yes. One was killed, one was caught, but Cynthia Dern was never found."

"It looks like her past finally caught up with her." Captain Montgomery said.

Beckett entered the interrogation room with me close on her heels. We took up our positions side by side on the opposite side of where Lee Wax was sitting. Beckett wasted little time with pleasantries and got down to business.

Lee explained about the bombing of the oil tanker. She said that a man by the name of Jarred Swanstrom had built the bomb. Susan Mailer and Cynthia snuck onboard to set the bomb. However something went wrong. The ship was supposed to have been empty of oil and people but the captain of the ship, one Sam Pike, had come back and when the bomb went off the captain was paralysed in the explosion.

"How did you track down Cynthia?" Beckett asked.

"I didn't." Lee replied. "She contacted me."

On a questioning look from Beckett Lee continued to speak.

"Cynthia had decided to turn herself in, but before she surrendered, she wanted to get her story out to the public and express remorse."

"And get public opinion on her side." I remarked with a grin.

"It's a great way to influence a potential jury pool." Lee agreed returning the grin.

"But she did it, right?" Beckett said. "So, how was she planning on 'influencing' them?"

"Cynthia told me that on the night of the bombing, she tried to back out." Lee said. "When she realised the captain was aboard, she argued with Susan Mailer to call it off. But Susan refused. Susan went to set the bomb and, ironically, died in the explosion. She was vaporized."

"So why would she come out of hiding now?" Beckett questioned.

"Money." Lee replied. "She needed the cash."

"You were paying her?" I asked.

"Couple of hundred a week.. If the book sold well..." Lee paused and gave me a knowing smile. "I don't have to tell you how much money was at stake."

Beckett looked at me but all I could do in return was shrug my shoulders. I did have a fair idea what kind of money we were talking about if the book Lee was ghost writing turned out to be a bestseller.

"When was the last time you saw Cynthia?" Beckett asked

"Tuesday afternoon."

"Did she mention that she was going to see anyone else? Maybe someone from her past?"

"No, no." Lee shook her head. "Cynthia was really paranoid about being discovered before the book came out. She didn't want me to get in touch with anyone from her old life."

A small grin rose to my face as I looked at Lee.

"But you did anyway." I told her. "Any true crime writer worth their salt is going to check with other sources."

Lee looked at me but did not reply immediately. A small smile appeared on her lips and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay, so I made a few calls." She conceded.

"Theses sources that you were talking to, did any of them want her dead?" Beckett asked.

"Maybe." Lee shrugged. "but remember, nobody knew how to find her. I mean, I didn't even know where she lived."

Beckett closed her folio and rose to her feet.

"I'm going to need to see your interview notes and manuscript." Beckett informed her.

Lee quickly turned around and reached into her large bag that was hanging from the back of the chair. She pulled out a thick bound manuscript. She placed it on the table and pushed it towards Beckett.

"You can have what ever you want." Lee said. "but in return, I'd like to be kept in the loop as the investigation proceeds."

"What for?" Beckett said, looking a little confused, as she picked up the manuscript.

"My book."

"Whoa. You going to through with it? But said Cynthia's dead." I said, surprised.

Lee looked at me and smiled.

"Correction." Lee said. "Cynthia was murdered, which means her memoir has become a true crime story. Which is kind of my forte." Lee turned to look up at Beckett. "You'd be doing me a huge favour."

"You know," Beckett said slowly. Though I was not looking at her I just knew she was just trying to keep a straight face. "I would love to, but I have a whole list of writers who are hanging around looking for favours."

I felt Beckett slap my arm as she walked off.

"So thank you very much, though, for cooperating. And umm...I'll catch you on the dark side."

Beckett strolled out of the interrogation room, closing the door on her way out. I remained seated for a moment. I flashed Lee a quick grin and rose to my feet and headed for the door.

"It's a pretty sweet gig you've scored for yourself, Mr Castle." Lee said as she gathered her things and got to her feet.

I paused by the door and turned to look back at Lee.

"Is this your secret to writing best-sellers? Follow the pretty cop lady around and take copious notes?"

I watched as Lee crossed the distance and came to stand close to me. I offered her an amused smile at her attempt to play seductress, her eyes raking up and down my body. She was not all that good an actress. I should know. I've been on the receiving of some very good seductions and by some very, very good actresses, some of which I succumbed to. Lee was doing nothing for me.

"I like to think talent played a small part." I said quietly.

"Still, this is the kind of all access pass most writers would kill for."

I nodded my head. "Let's get to the part where you tell me what you want."

"Well, maybe you can give me a call sometime, one professional to another." Lee said in a breathy tone of voice. "Or do you need to check with your boss lady?"

"Why don't you give me your number and I'll see what I can do."

Quick as a flash Lee produced her card and passed it over. I glanced at it and then looked at her and smiled. I opened the door for her to leave. I slipped Lee's card into my pocket.

XXXXX

_**Thoughts?**_

_**Con **_


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The Case of Ghosts

Part 3

I assisted Beckett in the updating of the murder board, attaching additional photos or documents, making notes with a whiteboard marker, offering suggestions. As we were doing this the thought did occur to me that as a team, Beckett and I made a pretty good one.

With the murder board updated Captain Montgomery made an appearance and we gave him an updated briefing. I made the remark about a domestic terrorist who clipped coupons and wanting to buy the movie rights myself.

Beckett was not all that impressed telling us that the bombing of the oil tanker had not been a very sophisticated operation. She pointed to a photo of a young Cynthia who had her arms around a pretty looking Susan Mailer and a rakish looking Jarred Swanstrom and said that Susan had been killed in the bomb explosion and Swanstrom had been caught by the FBI and served fifteen years in jail. Allison Goldman AKA Cynthia Dern managed to stay a fugitive for nearly two decades, I added, finishing for Beckett.

"Then she poked her head out of hiding and, a couple of months later, she's dead." Beckett added.

"Now who would hold a grudge for twenty years?" Captain Montgomery asked.

Beckett looked at the murder board and I followed her gaze as it fell on a picture of a man dressed in a maritime captain's uniform. She was looking at the photo of Captain Same Pike. Of course, I should have thought of that myself.

"How about the people whose lives she's ruined?" Beckett said turning to look at Captain Montgomery.

XXX

So it was another trip out to Winchester county. This time I was a little fidgety in the car and started fiddling with the music stations on the car radio. Beckett at first would turn the station back to the one she wanted but after a few minutes gave up this little game and left it on the station that I had found that was playing classic rock. Much to my disappointment Beckett refused to join in a game of I Spy.

We arrived at the Pike family home. Beckett had called them before we had left the precinct. We were met at the front door by Eleanor Pike, a woman in her mid fifties. She showed us into the modest looking living room where Sam Pike was waiting for us.

Sam Pike was in a wheel chair with an attending nurse standing behind the wheel chair. Sam was connected to a breathing apparatus to assist with his breathing. I tried hard not to be shock by the sight of the burn scars that ravaged his face and neck. The fingers of his left hand seemed to have been fused together. I did not think I did too good a job of it. My writer's imagination conjured up the kinds of firery horrors that this man must have endured.

I glanced at Beckett to see her reaction to the sight of Captain Sam but if she was shocked at the sight of the man she hid it well behind a gentle, compassionate mask. My admiration for her grew another notch.

We were invited to sit down on a couch and Eleanor sat opposite us. I drew my attention to the photos sitting on a side table. Photos from better times, photos from long ago.

"You say she was living in Irvington?" Eleanor said, looking surprised.

"Mmm-mmm." Beckett murmured.

"That's just a couple of miles away from here." Eleanor replied.

Beckett had started the interview by informing the Pikes that Cynthia Dern had been living in Irvington. She had done so to gauge the reaction of the Pikes.

"In the months leading up to her death, Cynthia was working with a journalist." Beckett said.

"We spoke with Lee Wax several times." Eleanor nodded her head. "She never told us Cynthia was involved."

"She should have." Captain Pike wheezed, suddenly getting agitated. "Will you excuse me, please?"

The nurse unbidden wheeled Captain Pike out of the room.

"It's hard for him." Eleanor said apologetically. "He's still angry about what happened. We all are."

Beckett nodded her head in understanding.

I reached over and picked up a framed photo of a young man in his early twenties standing proudly beside a small motorboat. I turned to show the photo to Eleanor.

"Is this your son?" I asked.

Eleanor nodded her head. "Adam."

"He's a sailor, just like his dad." I said as I put the photo back where I had found it.

"The settlement wasn't enough to cover all of Sam's medical costs." Eleanor explained. "Adam has been working and helping out since he was a teenager."

It must have been very difficult for a kid like Adam Pike growing up. An invalid father requiring constant attention, his mother spending most of her time attending to her wounded husband, and then when he was old enough having to out and start working to bring in enough money so they could make ends meet.

Beckett asked a few questions and Eleanor answered them giving an outline about what their lives had been like since the explosion on the oil tanker. Eleanor had no idea that Cynthia lived close by. Judging by her answers and demeanour my gut was telling me that Eleanor had nothing to do with Cynthia Dern's death. Glancing across to Beckett I saw that she was thinking along the same lines.

Beckett wound up the interview quickly and then asked if her son was about. Eleanor told us that Adam could be found in the backyard.

The Pike's backyard was not overly large and it was cluttered. A wooden garage sat in one corner. A clothesline on the other side had a couple of pieces of clothes hanging from it. There were a few fishing nets and other nautical paraphernalia. There was a long wooden bench which In the middle of the yard there was a small motorboat. Adam Pike was standing beside the boat with an electric sander in his hand ready to sand down the hull.

"Adam?" Beckett called out. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett."

Adam put down the electric sander and turned to face us.

"Is this about her? Cynthia, or Allison or whatever she called herself?" Adam said in an angry tone of voice.

"Did you have any idea that she lived so close?"

A look of surprise flickered across Adam's face and then the scowl returned.

"Didn't know, didn't care."

Beckett gave him a look of disbelief.

"You didn't care about the woman who almost killed your father?" She said. "I find that hard to believe."

"You know, my family waited twenty years for the cops to find Cynthia Dern." Adam said angrily. "So my dad could get a little bit of justice. Well, it's too late for that now. What do you want from us?"

I could well understand Adam's anger. In his shoes I'd probably be just as angry at the cops, at the world in general.

"Well, I thought you might want to know how Cynthia died." Beckett replied, ignoring the young man's anger. "She was drowned in motor oil."

"Motor oil?" Adam could not hide the look of surprise on his face.

"It's almost as if whoever did it had a personal connection to the bombing." I told him.

Adam looked away not saying anything. He focused his attention to the boat.

"Adam, if I looked in your garage right now, would I find motor oil?" Beckett asked as she pulled out her note book.

Adam looked around sharply. The anger had returned to his face.

"I own a boat and a car, Detective."

"And where were you last Tuesday?"

"I bartend at the Foxtail Grill on Manchester every Tuesday." Adam said. "Are we done?"

"Yes." Beckett replied as she made a note and then looked up at Adam. "For now. Thank you."

Beckett turned and started walking out of the backyard. I fell into step alongside her as we headed back to the car.

XXX

On returning to the bullpen I finally opened up about something which had been weighing on my mind ever since we had left the Pikes.

"You know what?" I said. "I hope his alibi checks out. I hope he didn't do it."

Beckett shot me a look of surprise.

"And here I thought you would be saying what a great story it would make if Adam Pike did it." Beckett said with a small smile on her face. "A son taking revenge for his father."

"It's a good story. It's a great story." I assured her. "Personally, I would just write a happier ending for that family."

Beckett made a murmur of agreement as we reached the murder board and started looking at it.

Esposito came over bringing with him a thick but old file.

"The FBI file on the tanker bombing in '89, I've been going through it." He announced.

"And?" Beckett said.

"Three days after the bombing, they captured Jarred Swanstrom at a motel where he'd been hiding out." Esposito informed us. "Feds had a tip line. Some helpful citizen calls, and said they'd seen Swanstrom at the motel. The Feds go in, grab him up, easy-peasy."

"It's pretty standard stuff." Beckett replied.

"Yeah, until you get to the part where the tipster never collects on the reward." Esposito grinned.

That had Beckett interested.

"And who was the tipster?" She asked.

"That's just it. The FBI never knew because she didn't leave a name."

"She?"

"Mm-hmm...Records describe the voice as, 'young and female'."

"It could be Cynthia Dern." Beckett said glancing at me before she turned to look at Esposito. "Do you think she would give up her friends to the cops?"

"Doesn't matter what I think." Esposito shrugged. "Only matters what Swanstrom thought. The guy did fifteen years in prison."

"That's a long time to think about who put you there." I remarked.

I did not even get the chance to grab myself a cup of coffee or park my bottom in my chair beside Beckett's desk. The moment Esposito handed over the address where we could find Jarred Swanstrom to Beckett she turned on her high heels and started walking out of the bullpen. I was forced to scurry quickly to catch up with her.

XXX

It was late in the afternoon when Beckett pulled her car up to the curb outside the place where Jarred Swanstrom worked. Our luck was with us because Swanstrom was out the front of the building hosing down the side walk. We got out of the car and approached him.

Jarred Swanstrom was a tall man aged in his mid forties with a bald head and a middle age spread that the blue maintenance uniform he wore could not disguise.

"Jarred Swanstrom?" Beckett said holding up her badge for him to see.

"Yeah." Swanstrom replied as he turned to see who had spoken. He turned off the hose he was holding.

"NYPD. We'd like to ask you some questions about Cynthia Dern." Beckett informed him.

"I'm not sure what I can tell you." Swanstrom replied with a frown. "I hadn't seen her in twenty years."

"But you knew she was writing a book, right?" I said. "You spoke to Lee Wax."

Swanstrom nodded his head. "Yeah, I spoke to her. I told her to give Cynthia my regards."

Beckett frowned a little at his response.

"So, you weren't bearing any old grudges?" She asked.

"Against Cynthia? What for?"

"For turning you in." I said. "It was Cynthia who called the cops the night you were arrested.

Swanstrom was thoughtful for a couple of moments before he looked up.

"Well, if that's true, she was just trying to save herself." Swantsrom said. "Right after the bombing, Cynthia wanted to run, try to make it to Canada but I, fell apart."

"Why?" I asked.

A remorseful look settled on Swanstrom's face.

"Guilt." He said. "I'm the one who built the bomb. I'm the one who messed it up."

"Messed it up, how?" Beckett questioned.

Swanstrom's remorseful expression deepened as he explained that Cynthia and Susan had three minutes to get off the ship before the bomb exploded. However when Cynthia returned to the car later she had told him that something had gone wrong and the bomb had gone off early. Swanstrom told us that he was the reason why Susan Mailer was dead.

I came away thinking that Jarred Swanstrom had nothing to do with Cynthia Dern's murder. His remorse seemed genuine. If not, he was a damn good actor and I have some experience when it comes to actors and actresses. My gut was telling me that he did not kill Cynthia. Beckett on the other hand was not all that ready to accept his innocence. She had noted Swanstrom's alibi in her note book and we headed back to the precinct.

As much as I wanted to stay back and watch as Beckett went about checking Swanstrom's alibi, it was getting late and it had been a long day. Before leaving I asked Beckett for Lee Wax's manuscript. Beckett wanted to know why I wanted it and I told her that I wanted to go through it to see what I might find in there, perhaps I might find something that might be useful. I added that reading manuscripts was right my alley and it would one thing less that she had to do. Beckett finally agreed that I could take the manuscript home and do some homework.

XXX

After dinner I was sitting in the kitchen with Lee Wax's manuscript which I was perusing. During dinner I was a little lost in the case, thinking over what Jarred Swanstrom had said and a few other aspects of the case. My two favourite red heads noticed my very unusual quietude and coaxed me out of my contemplation. I told them about the case and what had been uncovered so far.

As I said I was looking through the manuscript while Alexis packing things away. Mother came into the kitchen and made a beeline for the near empty wine bottle refilling her glass.

"At least one of them took responsibility for what happened that night." Mother remarked, having noticed me going through the manuscript.

"Yeah. Maybe a little too much responsibility." I replied.

Alexis looked from what she was doing and moved over to stand opposite me.

"You don't believe Jarred Swanstrom's story?" She said.

"That's the thing." I said. "It's not his story. It's Cynthia's."

"You want to break it down for us who've already had a glass of wine." Mother said, raising her glass of wine.

I don't think I am speaking out of school when I say that Mother had more than one glass of wine so far that evening.

I motioned to the manuscript as I spoke. "Cynthia told Lee Wax that she and Susan Mailer had an argument as to whether or not to set off the bomb, once they knew the captain was onboard. Cynthia backed out. Susan went on to set off the bomb by herself. And...'Boom'."

"Huh." Mother did not look like she caught the gist of what I had said.

Thankfully for her my darling daughter stepped in to provide some clarification.

"But today, Jarred Swanstrom said that Cynthia told him there was something wrong with the timer. She never said anything about an argument." Alexis said.

"Oh well, that is rather a glaring omission." Mother declared, now on the right track.

"You know, when I'm writing, I find it's all about choices." I mused aloud. "What to put in. What to leave out. When to reveal some information, when to hold something back...But as someone's ghost writer, you only know what they want you to know."

"But Lee Wax isn't Cynthia's ghost writer anymore, right? Now that she's dead, it's no longer a memoir. It's a true crime story." Alexis said with bubbling excitement.

I smiled lovingly at my wise-beyond-her-years daughter of mine.

"And it sounds like the true crime story is a whole lot juicier than Cynthia's lies." Alexis added.

For this effort of hers Alexis earned herself a very big hug from me. She skipped off up to her room to finish some homework. Mother retired to her room and I gathered up the manuscript and headed into my office. I needed to make a few calls.

XXX

The following morning I got into the precinct early. I even managed to beat Beckett in. To occupy my time I opened up the manuscript and got a hold of Lee Wax's interview notes and resumed the work that I had started the previous evening.

Beckett strolled into the bullpen with her morning cup of coffee in hand and was surprised to find me sitting at her desk, in her chair.

"Good morning." She said a little loudly, startling me.

"Oh! Hey." I stammered realising I was sitting in her seat. "Sorry. I've just...

Quickly I vacated the seat and planted myself in my chair beside her desk. Beckett settled herself in her chair. You would think she would have thanked me for keeping her seat warm, even a little, but no thanks did I receive. Not that it really mattered, I wasn't fishing for compliments. My thoughts were focused on the case.

"I've been going over Lee Wax's interview notes." I explained. Beckett nodded her head as if she was encouraging me to continue. "When she spoke to Jarred Swanstrom, he told her the same thing he told us: Cynthia said that the bomb blew early. But she left that version out of the book."

"That's because it contradicted Cynthia's latest story: that the girls argued when they discovered that Captain Pike was still onboard, and that Susan set the bomb alone." Beckett volleyed back.

According to the publisher, Cynthia has full approval over everything Lee Wax wrote. It was her way or the highway."

Beckett narrowed her eyes at me as she leaned forward.

"You talked to the publisher?"

I looked back at Beckett and held back the grin that threatened to appear.

"I am somewhat known in those circles." I offered in a measured tone.

I caught the flicker of amusement in those hazel eyes looking at me.

"Anyway." I continued. "They didn't like it. They were looking for a true crime tell-all, and what they were getting was some sanitised bunch of remorseful boohooing. They were ready to pull the plug."

Beckett's eyebrows lifted upwards. "And now?" She asked.

"Well now that Cynthia's murder's all over the media, they're back onboard, so long as the book takes a more sensationalised angle." I informed her. I paused and looked into the distance and held up my hand and called on my deep timbered breathy voice-over voice. "Kaboom! The true story of a domestic terrorist turned suburban housewife and the crime that shocked America!"

"Catchy." Beckett quipped.

"Thanks." I replied feeling pleased with myself.

"So with Cynthia out of the way, Lee Wax is sitting on a potential best-seller."

"People have killed for less." I nodded.

Further theory building was interrupted by Beckett's phone that came to life. She quickly answered it. I saw her face fall as she listened to the caller.

"Alright, bring him in." She ordered.

Beckett put the phone down and looked over at me. A look of disappointment filled her face.

"What?" I asked.

"Adam Pike's alibi fell apart." Beckett informed me. "He was lying about being at work on Tuesday night."

I winced at that information. I so wanted not for him to be the killer. The family had suffered enough.

XXX

I was standing in the observation room looking into the interrogation room at the sight of Adam Pike sitting at the table opposite Beckett. He had been sitting there for a while as Beckett prepared for the interrogation. There was no sign of his earlier bravado we had witnessed when Beckett and I spoke to him in his back yard. He seemed a little deflated and worried to find himself having been brought in for questioning. I would hazard to say that he had never seen the inside of an interrogation room in real life.

Having to sit this one out was not giving me any angst. Beckett and I both agreed she would have more success if she spoke to Adam alone. What was unspoken was the reason Beckett wanted to speak to Adam alone. A kid in his early twenties being interviewed by a beautiful lady cop would be singing pretty quickly if only to impress the lady cop. I could not disagree with that line of thought.

"I didn't kill her." Adam insisted. "I didn't know where she was."

Beckett looked at Adam for a moment before she spoke and then told him that they were not going to get anywhere if Adam continued to lie to her. She told him that she knew that he had gone to Irvington because she had spoken to Cynthia's husband who remembered seeing a guy answering Adam's description outside of their house a couple of weeks before Cynthia was murdered. Beckett said to Adam that she did not want to do it but she would put him in a police line up if she had to.

"I just...wanted to talk to her." Adam said finally.

"How did you find her?" Beckett asked.

"That writer." Adam said. "The way she kept talking about what happened to my dad, she knew things that only someone on that ship could know."

Beckett nodded her head but stayed silent, waiting for Adam to continue speaking. She did not have to wait for long.

"So I started to follow her around. Eventually, she led me to Cynthia Dern."

"And why didn't you call the police?" Beckett questioned.

"Because I wanted to look her in the eye." Adam said with some anger. "I wanted to tell her none of it mattered. Her blood money wouldn't buy our forgiveness."

The mention of 'blood money' caught my attention.

"What money?" I whispered aloud.

Beckett was thinking the same.

"What do you mean by 'blood money'?" She asked.

Adam looked away from Beckett's steady gaze. He was silent for some moments and then shook his head before he turned back to look at Beckett. Adam said that after he had found where Cynthia lived, he had gone and told his mother of having found Cynthia. He did not know whether to call the Feds or not. His mother started crying and then told Adam that they had been receiving money every month since the bombing. There were different amounts, sometimes more, sometimes less. But very month they would receive money.

"And your mother thought that the money was coming from Cynthia Dern?" Becckett said.

"The first envelope there was a note, 'Please forgive me'." Adam said with a shrug. "Susan Mailer was dead, Swanstrom was in prison. There wasn't anybody else."

Beckett sat back in her chair and regarded Adam Pike for a moment.

"You know," Beckett said slowly, "with this kind of evidence, Cynthia would have been caught years ago."

Adam shrugged his shoulders. "Mom said without the money, we wouldn't have made it." Adam replied. "She figured as long as Cynthia was free, the money would keep coming."

"So why did you lie to me about where you were on Tuesday?"

A look of guilt crossed Adam's face and he quickly looked away from Beckett's steady gaze. He stayed silent for a few moments as if he was weighing up his options. I could have told him that right now he had zero options. He seemed to come to the same realisation because he started speaking.

"Because I was there." He confessed. "At the hotel."

Adam slowly turned to look at Beckett.

"I followed her. I was just going to talk to her." He said. "I spent an hour walking up and down that hallway, trying to get up the courage to go and knock on that door, you know? I was gonna do it. But then someone got off the elevator and knocked on her door instead."

Now most ordinary people observing Detective Beckett would have missed the brief flicker of excitement that appeared on her face. The small excited twitch of her eyebrows. Now, I'm not most ordinary people, I have made observing Detective Kate Beckett my favourite hobby, so I caught the sense of excitement she experienced when Adam said that he had seen someone else knock on Cynthia's door. It was a sense of excitement that matched my own.

"You saw the killer?" Beckett said carefully.

"I didn't get a good look, but I did hear them talking." Adam informed her. "And I can tell you one thing."

"What?"

"It was a woman."

There was only one woman who I could think of who would be talking to Cynthia Dern. None other than our true crime writer come ghost writer.

"Lee Wax." I breathed excitedly.

Now you would think I would have learned my lesson from the last time when I had been standing in the observation room watching Beckett interrogating a suspect and I started banging on the two way mirror excitedly. You'd be wrong. I started banging on the glass again trying to get Beckett's attention.

"Beckett, it's Lee Wax!" I shouted. "Lee Wax!"

Adam was startled at the sudden banging and hearing muffled shouting. Beckett certainly was none too pleased. She turned her head in the direction of the two way mirror and levelled a Death Glare at me, that had it been switched up to eleven, would have cut me in half. She scowled and made a cut-throat motion with her finger, silently letting me know to cool it.

I got the message. And the message was reinforced shortly afterwards when Beckett left the interrogation room and came into the observation room and slapped me upside the head. She did not hit me all that hard but I got the message, all the same. The glare that she added, I thought was unnecessary, but I got that as well. I did promise her not to do it again.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts are always appreciated, Dear Reader.**_

_**Con **_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The Case of Ghosts

Part 4

It was a decidedly unhappy Lee Wax who was brought into the precinct and put in the interrogation room for another tête-à-tête with Beckett and myself. Lee was sitting in the same spot she had been the first time. Beckett was sitting opposite her while on the other hand was standing up leaning against the wall.

"Murder?" Lee exclaimed. "Are you people crazy?"

"I have an eyewitness who can place you at the SRO where Cynthia's body was found." Beckett informed her.

"You had motive, means and opportunity." I added.

"Please." Lee scoffed, casting a glance in my direction. "Only a novelist could come up with a twist this absurd."

"Not as absurd as killing a woman to salvage your story." I retorted as I eased myself off the wall and came over to sit beside Beckett at the table. "Drowning her in motor oil gave you just the ending you needed."

"I'm a true crime writer, so I don't have your talent for fiction." Lee sneered.

"We know your publisher wanted to dump your contract." Beckett pointed out.

"Because I told them that I thought Cynthia was lying."

"So, you didn't believe her remorse was genuine?"

"When Cynthia cried, it was for herself." Lee said. "She wanted to cash in and keep herself out of jail, that's it."

"Well, she must have felt some responsibility for what had happened." Beckett replied. "After all, she sent the Pikes money year after year."

The confident look on Lee Wax's face suddenly faltered. She frowned as she looked across to me and then at Beckett.

"What money?" She asked hesitantly.

"Every month since the bombing," I said "The Pikes have been receiving money. Courtesy of Cynthia Dern. Only, there's nothing about that in your notes."

"Because she never told me." Lee shot back. She turned to Beckett. "Are you sure?"

"We're sure." Beckett assured her.

"Look, the Tuesday that Cynthia was killed, I was out to dinner with my publisher until after midnight." Lee informed us. "So I couldn't have killed her."

Beckett let out a frustrated sigh as she leaned back in her chair. I felt pretty much the same. Our prime suspect had just provided an alibi that we both knew would hold once it was checked out.

Lee Wax looked back at us with a smug smile on her face. I wanted to tell her not look smug because it didn't become her but I didn't. Beckett forced a smile to her face and thanked her for coming in and that she was free to go.

XXX

Beckett was at her desk typing up her notes from Lee Wax's interview. I could tell that she was not in the mood for my usual antics so I turned my attention to the murder board and began to study it. It was not too long before a thought occurred to me. I turned to look at Beckett.

"Remind me if I ever decide to write a memoir, to never write a memoir." I told her.

I know what you're thinking: 'What am I reading right now?' What you are reading, Dear Reader, is not a memoir of my life per se but of the cases that I have worked with the NYPD. There is a kind of difference.

"Okay." Beckett replied, without taking her eyes off the computer screen.

It was not the response I was looking for so I just stared at her. So much for not resorting to my usual antics. I waited patiently. Feeling my eyes on her, Beckett stopped her typing and looked across to me.

"Why not?" She sighed.

"Because memoirs are about the truth, and I'm not a truthful person." I informed her. "It'd be too easy to make myself look good."

Beckett had returned to her typing. "Might be harder than you think." She quipped.

Touché Detective Beckett, I thought to myself. The case might have gone a little pear-shaped but she still had the wit for the dead pan comebacks.

"Maybe." I agreed. I turned from the murder board and came over to sit beside her desk. "But I would be sure to start with the most generous thing I ever did."

Beckett gave me a thoughtful look as she considered what I had said. A small smile rose to her lips.

"You mean, like how you anonymously sent money to your victims." She said. "Because you felt so guilty about what you've done?"

"The object of Cynthia's memoir was to gain sympathy." I said. "What could be more sympathetic than sending the Pikes guilt money for twenty years?"

"It doesn't make sense that Cynthia didn't tell Lee Wax." Beckett mused.

I could not help the grin that rose to my face as I looked at Beckett as I related to her the thought that had occurred to me.

"Unless the money didn't come from Cynthia."

That remark had Beckett's eyebrows rising in surprise.

XXX

As much as Beckett wanted to remain at the precinct to theorise about the money that the Pikes had been receiving had not come from Cynthia I did not allow her to remain. You see Beckett and I had a prior engagement back at the loft. Tonight Detective Kate Beckett was going to play with my Gotham City poker crew. I almost had to drag her out of her seat until I reminded her that I had set it up at her request.

I was more than a little excited on the ride over to the loft. I had a feeling that she was more than capable of holding her own against the guys but I did detect a hint of nervousness in her. I tried to set her at ease by telling her not to worry, she would do fine. I also said that she would end up losing. Just as I knew she would. Beckett rose up and took the bait I had dangled. The rest of ride to the loft was spent trash talking each other.

Getting to the loft I told Beckett to make herself at home while I quickly set about getting the poker table ready. Beckett was not one to sit around watching me getting things organised and she insisted on helping out.

Half an hour later the Gotham City crew were standing at the front door. For those who may have forgotten, my Gotham City crew comprised of the Mayor, Judge Markway and Captain Montgomery. Thankfully Mother was otherwise engaged or she would have insisted in joining in the game. We wasted little time in sitting down at the table and anteing up. Beckett was to my left with the big Cheese next to her and Captain Montgomery on his left. Judge Markway was on my right.

For the next couple of hours the discussions around the table consisted mainly about the Mayor's latest budget initiatives, Captain Montgomery complaining about budget cuts to the NYPD, a recent case Judge Markway had presided over and some anecdotes of mine.

I did notice that Beckett had been a little nervous being in such august company but with the good natured banter and laughter flowing around the table soon had her relaxing and joining in on the conversations. What I also noticed as the night progressed was that she was more than holding her own against the guys. Her chips were steadily growing but not as much as mine were, I hasten to add.

As much as Beckett did not want to discuss the case she and I were working on, the case was brought up when Captain Montgomery asked her where she was with the case. The captain had already left for the day when we had finished up with Lee Wax so we weren't able to update him at the precinct. Beckett with some reluctance filled everyone in. I could not help myself but jumped in and told the guys about the money that the Pikes had been receiving and the speculation as to who the mystery sender was.

"It had to be from Cynthia." Captain Montgomery declared. "Swanstrom was in prison and Susan Mailer was dead."

Judge Markway picked up some chips and tossed them into the pot. "Call...And you're sure no one else was involved?"

"No, just the three of them." I replied. "Assuming you believe the FBI."

I tossed in my chips into the middle and called.

"Call." Beckett said adding to the pot in the middle of the table.

I could not help but notice that she was feeling a little uncomfortable about discussing the case in front of the crew.

"You know, we really don't have to talk about this." She said.

"Anything to stop his Honour here from talking about budget initiatives." Judge Markway replied.

"Oh, okay, Judge." Mayor Weldon chuckled. "Who was it that appointed you again?"

Judge Markway ignored the good natured threat that had been directed at him. He was more concerned about the case.

"Now, the FBI I believe." He said. "But why take Cynthia Dern's word for anything that happened the night of the bombing, when her own ghost writer didn't even trust her?"

"You know, the judge is right." Weldon announced. His eyes moved to Beckett. "What do we actually know about what happened?"

Beckett had been following the discussion around the table suddenly found every one's eyes on her.

She cast her eyes down to the table for a moment. I was not sure if she was silently wishing that somebody could change the topic of conversation or whether she was marshalling her thoughts. Suddenly she lifted her head.

"Not much." She declared. "According to Lee Wax's notes, Captain Pike heard two women arguing just before the explosion. Cynthia claims that she was trying to change Susan's mind."

"Fold." Captain Montgomery said, tossing down his cards. "But if we assume Cynthia was lying..."

"Then maybe it was Susan that wanted to save Pike, and Cynthia wanted to run." Weldon supplied. He picked a couple of chips from his dwindling stack and tossed them into the pot. "Raise twenty."

"Right." I said picking up where the Mayor had left off. "But the bomb was already set, so the three-minute timer is already ticking."

"The girls argue, wasting precious seconds..." Judge Markway added quickly.

From out of the corner of my eye I could not help but notice the smile on Beckett's face as she watched the rest of us playing the speculation game.

"Susan runs towards the ticking bomb to try to shut it down..." Weldon suggested.

"While Cynthia runs for cover." Captain Montgomery added.

"Right," I said. "Susan gets to the bomb, but too late."

"Boom." Weldon supplied the sound affect.

"Which means Susan Mailer didn't die trying to set the bomb." I surmised.

"She died trying to save an innocent man's life." Judge Markway supplied.

Beckett chose that moment to bring up another thing to which we had yet to find an answer to.

"It still doesn't explain where the money came from." She informed the rest of us.

The mayor was looking at his cards. He made a face as he threw them away.

"Fold." He announced. He turned to look at me. "Well, what about it Castle? You're good with twists. Where'd the money come from?"

"I'm thinking." I replied.

I had been thinking about where the money could have come from and so far nothing had come up. Nothing that made any sense, even to me, presented himself.

"Yeah, well, you might want to think up some chips for the pot, cause it looks like it's just you and me." Beckett taunted me.

Her cocky remark was greeted by laughter from the guys. I turned slowly and eyed her carefully, that amused smirk on her face, the glint in her hazel eyes. Oh if that was only true, my dear Detective Beckett, I thought to myself.

"Alright, Detective Beckett. I'm all in." I responded. I gathered all the chips sitting in front of me and pushed them into the middle of the table. I sat back and turned to Beckett. "Oh, what's the matter? You afraid of a little action?"

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head at me.

"Oh, do us a favour, Detective. Beat his pants off." Judge Markway begged.

"Yes, please." I said excitedly, waggling my eyebrows at Beckett. "Beat my pants off. If you dare."

The smirk faded from her face as she regarded me.

"Beckett, do me proud." Captain Montgomery commanded. Beckett cast a glance at Captain Montgomery but said nothing.

"To hell with proud," Judge Markway interjected. "Make him cry like a little girl."

Beckett reached for her cards and lifted them up a little to take a look at what she was holding. I studied her carefully, hoping to see a tell, something that might give her away. But I saw nothing, not a twitch, nothing. She wore a mask of stone as she contemplated her hand and then her chips. Then she looked up at me, still giving nothing away.

Oh, she was good, no, she was very good. I have to give her that.

Suddenly she was shaking her head.

"Sorry fellas." She announced looking apologetically. "It's just not my night."

Her announcement was greeted by a chorus of groans from the other men. Me on the other hand leaped out of my chair and started scooping the chips from the pot towards me.

"Who's a good little boy? Who's a good little boy?" I chanted as I picked up one chip after another. "You are, and you are."

"Don't you ever get tired of winning, Castle?" Judge Markway asked.

"Yeah, you'd think so." I replied laughing. "But no."

"Well, I think that's it for me." Weldon announced. He turned and smiled at Beckett. "Detective, it was a pleasure."

"Mr Mayor." Beckett replied, nodding her head.

"Sorry we couldn't solve your case." Judge Markway told her.

"And I'm sorry I couldn't make him cry like a little girl." Beckett replied.

"Well, it's not your fault Detecitve." Weldon said laughing. "No matter how down he gets, he always manages to rise from the dead."

That remark had me lifting up my head and forgetting about stacking up my winnings.

"Oh, that would be a twist." I declared.

"What?" Captain Montgomery asked.

I looked at the Captain. "The money had to come from Cynthia because Swanstrom was in jail and Susan Mailer was dead, right?"

"Right." Judge Markway agreed.

A small smile rested on my lips as I turned to look at Beckett and spoke again. "But what if Susan Mailer didn't die in that explosion? What if she is still alive?"

I saw the Gotham City crew out with the promise that I will go easy on them next time but all of us knowing that I would be doing everything I could to beat them, like I always did. On turning around I was surprised to find Beckett packing up the cards and chips and generally cleaning up. I tried to stop her, insisting that I would take care of things but she steadfastly ignored my request. I gave up trying to stop her and ended up helping her. During the cleaning up we did discuss my wild theory about Susan Mailer being alive. I got the impression she did not quite believe me or at least did not believe this wild theory but I insisted that it was the only thing that made sense.

Beckett left soon after with the promise that we would follow it up the next day.

XXX

The following morning I was in the break room sharing a coffee with Ryan and Esposito. I had eagerly recounted to the boys about this new theory I had come up with the night before. What I had not told them was where and when. I felt a little bit guilty I had not invited to the poker game with my Gotham City crew like I had done with Beckett. I did make a mental note to make it up to them at a later date.

"Susan Mailer? Alive?" Ryan said his voice dripping with scepticism.

Beckett had come into the break room and had gone straight to make herself a coffee.

"Her body was never found." I reminded all of them.

"Yeah, because she was vaporised in the explosion." Beckett pointed out as she poured herself a coffee.

I was not upset that Beckett was still not buying my new theory. I was confident that I was right regardless of her insistence on following the facts. As I said before, it was the only thing that made sense. Certainly if I was writing this story I would write it that Susan Mailer would not have been killed in the bomb blast.

"Well, maybe she was thrown clear." I suggested.

"Well, then, she would've been badly burned and would've needed care." Esposito pointed out.

"And no one matching her description ever checked into area hospitals." Ryan added.

"Mere details, my good man." I said to Ryan a little smugly.

Beckett came over with her coffee and looked at me.

"Um, around here, we call them 'facts'." Beckett reminded me.

"Well then, let's go get us some 'facts'." I challenged her.

An hour or so later Beckett and I were sitting side by side on the couch in the Pike's living room. Beckett had called Adam Pike before leaving the precinct to see if he or his mother had kept the envelopes. Luck was with us the Pikes had kept the envelopes.

"Please don't think less of me." Eleanor Pike said as she passed to over to Beckett a thick collection of envelopes held together with a rubber band. "I did what I had to do to survive."

I gave Eleanor a reassuring smile that neither Beckett or I were judging her for what she had done.

Beckett started examining the postmarks. I leaned a little closer to her so that I could see as well.

"These are from all over the place." Beckett said looking over to Eleanor and Adam who were sitting opposite us.

"Not the recent ones." Adam pointed out. "The recent ones are all the same."

Beckett checked the envelopes at the pile and found that indeed the postmarks showed that they all had come from the same town.

"Lititz Pennsylvania." Beckett said, turning to look at me.

"If we're going to road-trip." I told her in a low voice. "I'm gonna have to pee first."

That remark of mine was greeted with a roll of her eyes. I'm sure she also wanted to smile but refused to give me that satisfaction. Beckett took possession of the envelopes telling the Pikes that they were evidence but promising to return them after the case. The Pikes were only too happy to let Beckett keep the envelopes.

XXX

The trip to Lititz Pennsylvania was a long one and I was silently thankful I had gone and taken a pee before we had set off. Boredom had set in pretty quickly and I started fidgeting in the passenger seat. I was more than a little surprised when Beckett did not say anything when I started to constantly change the music stations on her car radio. I gave up on the radio pretty quickly after that. Then you could have knocked me down with a feather when I suggested we play a game of _I Spy_ and Beckett agreed. The game did not last long but it was fun while it lasted. I'd like to say that I won but I have to report that Beckett beat me. I have vowed revenge though.

Reaching the town of Lititz we headed straight for the post office. Not knowing exactly where it was I had to ask a local for directions and the local was only too happy to give us directions.

The Lititz post office was a small functional building. There was a small counter which was caged. The walls were festooned with posters that you would find in most post offices. There was even a yellowing FBI Most Wanted poster and the wall that looked like it had been up there for a while. I did not take a good look at it but I suspected it might have had mug shots of John Dillinger and Machinegun Kelly. There weren't too many people in the post office.

"I've never seen her before." The postal clerk announced as he studied the photo of Cynthia Dern that Beckett had given him.

Beckett and I were standing by the clerk's window.

"Are you positive?" Beckett asked.

I glanced at Beckett. "Didn't he sound positive?"

"Castle." Beckett snapped.

She reached into her folio and pulled out a photo of a young looking Susan Mailer and passed it across the counter to the clerk.

"Okay, how about her?"

The clerk picked up the photo and studied it.

"She'd be older now." Beckett added.

"How much older?" The clerk asked.

"Twenty years." I informed him.

"I don't think so." The clerk shook his head.

Beckett let out a sigh of frustration and turned her back on the clerk.

"That's what I get for listening to a mystery writer." She muttered.

I could well understand her frustration. It had been a near three hour trip to get to Lititz and it would take us another three hours to get back to the city. The prospect of spending three hours in a car with me sitting beside her was not filling her with any enthusiasm. Plus the fact she was thinking we had wasted a lot of time on a wild goose chase.

I was not ready to give up. I looked to the clerk.

"She might have scars or walk with a limp" I suggested.

The clerk took another look at the photo and was thoughtful.

"Like she's been in an accident?" The clerk suggested. I nodded my head. "It could be Mary Wright."

Beckett suddenly turned around, any sign of her previous frustration had vanished.

"Mary Wright?" She said.

"She comes in once a month or so, buys a money order to send to relatives in New York." The clerk announced.

Beckett glanced at me. I saw the glint in her eyes, the spark of excitement, and it was a very pleasing sight to behold. I gave her an _'I told you so'_ grin. For once I did not get a patented Beckett eye roll.

"Do you have her address?" Beckett asked as she turned to look at the clerk.

Finding Susan Mailer did not take us long and she did not put up any kind of fight. Soon after we were all back on the road heading back to the city.

XXX

It was early evening when we got back and soon after Susan Mailer was in the interrogation room sitting across from Beckett and me. Half her face and neck was scarred by the explosion. Her hands that were revealed under the rolled up sleeves of her cardigan were ridges of angry pink and ghostly white scars of her melted flesh. She wore an air of resignation.

"It sounds naïve now, but um...everything I did back then, I did because I thought it would help." Susan said.

"We're not here because of the bombing, Susan." Beckett informed her. "We're here because of what you did to Cynthia Dern."

"Her body was found in a tub of motor oil." I said. "But you already know that."

"Forensics is going through that room as we speak. And believe me, they will find something. Something that connects you to Cynthia's death." Beckett added.

Susan looked from me to Beckett.

"She should have just left it all alone." Susan said shaking her head. Her eyes focused on her hands clasped in front of her. "She had a husband, a good life. Well, that wasn't Cynthia. Once she decided on something, well, you just better not be in her way."

"Like the night on the tanker." I said.

Susan regarded me silently for a moment or two. Seeing that we had figured it out, Susan nodded her head.

"I saw the captain go below. I didn't know how he got back without us seeing." Susan said. "I...I...tried...I was too late. When the bomb exploded, I was thrown overboard."

Susan focused into the middle distance as if she was returning to that night twenty years ago. Her hand rose to touch the scars on her face.

"I can still feel the heat on my skin...even today." Susan added.

"How did you survive without medical attention?" Beckett asked.

Susan slowly snapped out of her reveries to look at Beckett.

"A friend took me in, a med student." Susan explained. "Nursed me back to health."

"And Mary Wright was born." I said.

Susan nodded her head. Once more she cast her eyes down to her hands.

"It isn't hard to live like a ghost when everyone you love thinks you're dead." Susan said lifting her gaze. "I never contacted anyone from my former life...not even my parents."

"But you still sent money to the Pikes." Beckett pointed out.

Susan nodded her head. "They had a son, medical bills...I...I was responsible. Everything could have stayed just the way it was, except..." Susan's voice trailed off.

"Except Cynthia decided to write a book." I supplied.

Susan nodded her head again and then said that the reporter had posted on an environmental board asking for information on Cynthia. Susan emailed Lee Wax, pretending she was a friend of the group. It didn't take Susan long to figure out that Lee had found Cynthia, and Cynthia was lying about what had happened on the tanker.

"You tracked her down. You confronted her." Beckett told her.

Susan looked at Beckett.

"I threatened to turn myself in if she went through with the book." Susan informed her. "Give myself up, tell the authorities everything. She begged to meet me first. Somewhere we could talk."

"That's when you hired the room?" I asked.

"Oh no." Susan shook her head. "Cynthia rented the room, not me. It was all part of her plan."

"Her plan?" Beckett could not disguise the look of confusion that appeared on her face.

"Her plan to murder me." Susan said. "When I got there, she poured me a drink. 'Let's toast to old friends', she said." Susan paused a moment to look at both Beckett and me. A small smile appeared on her face. "Only, you see, I don't drink. I tried to leave. She wouldn't let me. I hid in the bathroom, and that's when I saw it. A tub full of oil. Then I understood."

The storyteller in me was practically screaming to be let loose, and I let him off the leash.

"She didn't plan to talk to you. She planned to kill you and make it look like a suicide. That wine was laced with a sleeping pill. You were supposed to drink it, then drown in the oil." I said.

"And then the world would think that you were wracked with guilt over the Pikes all these years, and that you finally decided to commit suicide." Beckett added, not to be outdone.

"Once your body was discovered, the public would clamour for the 'true' story. Cynthia's true story, with you now cast as the villain." I finished.

Susan listened to what both Beckett and I had said nodding her head.

"We struggled. She lost her balance and fell against the sink, hitting her head." Susan informed us. A small sad smile settled on her face. "I should've called for help. But I just wanted it to be over. So...I...dragged her to the tub, and I...I...pushed her in. You see I was already dead. I just wanted it to keep it that way."

There was only for Susan to write down her statement and it did not require two witnesses, so I excused myself and left the interrogation room.

I ended up sitting at Beckett's desk and waited for her to finish up with Susan Mailer. An hour passed before Beckett emerged from the interrogation room with a handcuffed Susan Mailer being escorted by a uniform in the direction of the booking area. I caught Beckett's eye as she was walking past and I saw that she seemed a little down. I knew how she felt.

After Beckett and Susan Mailer had passed from view Lee Wax came breezing into the bullpen and right up to the desk. She wore a smile on her face.

"I heard you made an arrest." She said as perched herself on the edge of the desk.

"You can hear all about it in the morning news." I replied.

"Oh, come on." Lee pouted. "After all the help I gave you on this case, you can't give me any more information than that?"

"Well, I could." I agreed then paused and looked up at her. "But I just keep thinking that, if it wasn't for you, there wouldn't be a case in the first place."

The smile slipped a little on Lee's face. "What does that mean?"

"All the people from Cynthia's past you interviewed...How did you manage to let every one of them know you were in contact with her?" I asked.

"What are you implying?"

I told Lee what I was implying, telling that she wanted someone to put two and two together. She wanted Cynthia in prison. With Cynthia in prison Lee could tear up the contract she had with Cynthia and write the story she wanted to write, with an ending that would sell more books. The thing was Lee could not call the cops because what kind of story would that be.

"That's a lovely theory." Lee said with a humourless smile. "But even if it's true, I didn't kill Cynthia. I didn't do anything illegal."

"Oh, no, no,no, it's not illegal." I said and paused. "It's just slimey."

From out of my pocket I took out Lee's card and held it up.

"So, your all access pass has been revoked." I added.

Lee glared at me but took the card and started to leave.

"Oh and one more thing." I called out to her. Lee turned her head to look at me. "One day, one day not far from now, I'm going to use this in a book."

I offered her up my best smirk. Lee Wax gave me a dark look and stormed out of the bullpen. It was one the few satisfying things to come out of this case.

A couple of moments later Beckett returned and saw me sitting in her chair. She held out her hands in a 'what the hell?' kind of gesture that had me scrambling out of her chair and into mine beside her desk. Beckett settled down in her chair while I stared off into the distance.

"Susan Mailer's in booking." Beckett reported.

"All these years, trying to do the right thing, trying to make amends." I mused aloud. "Because of Cynthia's greed, she's going to end up in jail."

"If you're looking for a happy ending, you've come to the wrong place." Beckett retorted.

"Next time, I guess I'll try that massage parlour on 2nd Avenue." I quipped.

I felt Beckett shoot me a look. I held up my hand to her.

"Just kidding." I said. "Actually, who needs a happy ending when you have a story with people pretending to be dead, living under assumed names, plotting fake suicides, and murder for revenge?"

"You know, I'm glad to see that you're entertained." Beckett shot back. "I, however have to call Michael Goldman and tell him that his wife was a sociopath."

"But you also get to call Jarred Swanstrom and tell him that he's no longer responsible for Susan Mailer's death. Matter of fact Susan Mailer's still alive." I reminded her.

"Which is why Cynthia is now dead."

"Wow. You are all about the cloud, aren't you? Never the silver lining" I said.

I fished into my pocket and pulled out the wad of cash I had been keeping there.

"Okay, maybe this might cheer you up a little bit."

I held out the cash to her. Beckett gave me a rather coy look.

"Your winnings."

"My winnings?" she said.

"Oh, don't play coy with me. You threw your hand." I challenged.

You might be wondering how I knew Beckett threw her hand? Well, unlike mother I didn't resort to checking the discarded cards. I had thought about that last hand we had played and then remembered what she had said to the guys when she lost. They were similar words to what I had said when I had thrown my hand.

Beckett regarded me for several moments, debating whether to spin a story or to come clean. She chose the latter.

"Alright, I was trying to be nice." She confessed as she reached over and took the money. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends."

"Now we're even." I said. I started reaching into the inside pocket of my jacket. "So, what do you say to a..."

I paused as I pulled out a deck of cards and held them up for Becket to see.

"...little showdown?" I suggested.

Beckett quirked her eyebrows as she stared back.

"Head to head, toe to toe." I said. "Winner take all. Mano a mujer."

"Hand to woman?" Beckett smirked.

"Whatever it takes."

Beckett leaned closer to me. "You're on."

"No mercy." I said.

"I'm gonna make you hurt."

"Oh, you're gonna get hurt."

"What are we playing for?" Beckett asked.

"Pride." I said, then my eyes fell to her chest. "Or clothing."

"I think I got a pack gummy bears." Beckett said, with an amused grin.

"Shuffle." I passed the deck to Beckett.

She pulled off the rubber band holding the deck together and started to shuffle the cards with the dexterity of a Vegas dealer.

"Comfy with Texas hold 'em?" She inquired.

"I'm comfy as long as my cards come from the top of the deck." I taunted.

"Huh. What you got up your sleeves?"

"Aside from my muscular arms?"

The back and forth and trash talk continued as we played. It was only when it came to the witching hour that we called a halt to the game. I'm sure you're wondering who ended winning this game. It doesn't really doesn't matter...Okay, okay all I will say is that I ended up owing Beckett a couple of packets of gummy bears.

XXXXX

_**There you go, Dear Reader, the end of another case file. What did you think of it?**_

_**Con **_


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The Case Of Little Girl Lost

Part 1

This was the case of a little girl. Angelo Candela was the little girl's name. A sweet, adorable child who, through no fault of her own, had the misfortune to get caught up in her parents' marital unhappiness.

And this was the case when I first met Beckett's ex-boyfriend. Special Agent Chisel Chin or as he is better known, Special Agent Will Sorenson, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I prefer to call him Agent Chisel Chin. I know it's childish and churlish of me, but hey, I don't care. Agent Chisel Chin sounds more alliterate.

The story began one Sunday morning, a day that I intended to spend some quality time with Alexis, playing laser tag or watching movies, when I got a call from Captain Montgomery telling me very little other than to front up to a crime scene that Beckett had been called to.

I did not need to be told twice. Spending time with Beckett was good enough reason to fly out the door. Before I did, I apologised profusely to my daughter for spoiling the plans we had made and promising to make it up to her. Alexis did not seem too perturbed about our plans having been ruined.

Before showing up to the crime scene I had stopped by a coffee shop and got a couple of cups of coffee and a bear claw. The bear claw and one of the coffees was for Detective Beckett. I had been observing her for long enough to know that she was an absolute coffee fiend, and doesn't really begin to function properly until she's had a proper hit of caffeine.

Getting out of the cab I started walking along the street towards the apartment building where the crime scene was. I spotted Beckett getting out of her car.

"Good morning." I greeted her. "Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla, and a bear claw."

Beckett could not hide the look of surprise on her face as she took the coffee and the bag containing the bear claw.

"How did you know...?"

"I'm a novelist." I informed her with a grin. "It's my job to notice things."

As I said I had been carefully observing Detective Beckett and sometimes when we were out and ordered coffee, grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla, was her order of choice. Not all the time but most of the time. That little piece of information had been added to my Beckett file a long time ago.

"It's Sunday morning." Beckett said as she pulled out the bear claw. "Shouldn't you be slinking home from some scandalous liaison?"

"Would you be jealous if I were?" I countered.

That question earned me a roll of her eyes.

"In your dreams." Beckett said.

We crossed the street and approached the apartment building.

"Actually, in my dreams you're never jealous." I said. "In my dreams, you just join..."

A strategically placed bear claw was wedged into my mouth preventing me from finishing that last sentence. I wont tell you what I was going to say either.

Removing the bear claw I caught up with Beckett.

"Captain Montgomery called and said, 'Come down right away'." I informed her. "So it must be gruesome."

"Try not to get giddy every time we go to a crime scene, okay?"

"Just because someone's dead, doesn't mean you have to be grumpy." I retorted.

Just as we reached the front door of the building Beckett stopped suddenly and rounded on me.

"Oh, do you want to see grumpy?" She said, her face darkening. "How about that cover art for your new novel?"

"Nikki Heat cover art?" I said. "That's only available to..."

My voice trailed off when suddenly it struck me. A look of horror appeared on Beckett's face as she realised that she had let slip something she had not wanted me to know. She turned and marched into the building.

"Oh my God! You subscribe to my website!" I declared excitedly. "Wait a minute, are you CastleFreak1212? CastleLover45?"

I could not believe it, Beckett checking out my website. That was incredible.

"You do realise that most people would be creeped out by crazed anonymous fans?" Beckett said, back peddling frantically.

"Like you?"

"It was strictly professional curiosity." Beckett said crisply.

"So, what did you think of your alter ego, Nikki? Pretty sweet, right?" I said happily.

We had reached the hallway and Beckett stopped and turned to look at me, a thunderous expression on her face.

"'Sweet?' She's naked!"

"She's not naked." I insisted. "She's holding a gun...strategically."

I had gotten the idea of a silhouetted figure of Nikki Heat holding a gun after having seen an old James Bond movie, and with most of the opening credits from those movies, you have silhouetted women dancing and prancing about in the background, and you are left to your imagination to decide whether the women are naked or not. I thought it would be so cool to use that idea on the cover art for the book. Happily the art department people at Black Pawn thought so too.

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You know...I take comfort in the fact, they're already publishing the cover art, then your book, and our little partnership , is almost done."

Beckett placed her coffee back in the holder that I was carrying, turned and marched to the door where a uniform was standing guard. Beckett nodded to the uniform and entered the apartment. I reached the front door but the uniform raised his hand to stop me.

"No, coffee in here, sir." he said nodding into the apartment.

I nodded my head in understanding and passed over the two coffees and bear claw to the uniform.

The apartment was a small apartment and it was swarming with uniforms and Techs who were busy taking photos of the crime scene, while others were collecting evidence. What I also noticed almost immediately was there was no sign of a body.

Captain Montgomery met us. He had a grave look on his face.

"Sir? What's going on?" Beckett asked. She too had noticed that there was no sign of a body.

"Two year old, girl, Angela Candela, reported missing by her parents about eight o'clock this morning." Captain Montgomery informed us.

"Where'd they find the body?" Beckett asked.

"They haven't found her." Montgomery replied. "She was abducted. Father was in the other room, painting."

"Kidnapped from her home?" I said, sounding a little shocked.

Well, more than a little shocked. A felt shudder course through my spine. What parent wouldn't feel that. It's one of the fears that still gives me nightmares from time to time. My daughter being kidnapped.

"I don't understand, sir." Beckett said. "If this isn't a murder, why am I here?"

"The Feds requested you to be on the task force." Captain Montgomery explained.

"The Feds?" I said.

"FBI has jurisdiction over child abduction cases." Beckett informed me.

I did already know that. The FBI had jurisdiction in child abduction cases since the days following the Lindberg Baby kidnapping back in the 1930s. This was not the time show how knowledgeable I was about these things.

"Then why call me?" I asked.

Captain Montgomery looked at me.

"Because I like pissing off the FBI." He explained. "And because you think outside the box. That's something the Feebs rarely do."

"Sir, who's the special agent in charge." Beckett said.

"Beckett, doesn't matter who..." Montgomery said.

"Sir, who?" Beckett insisted.

Captain Montgomery regarded Beckett for a moment before he spoke. "Sorenson."

I could not help but notice that Beckett had stiffened and rocked back a little on her heels at the mention of the special agent's name. Instantly I knew that there was a story here that I did not know about.

"Who's Sorenson?" I asked.

"I thought that he was in..." Beckett said.

"In Boston?" Montgomery replied. "Not anymore. He's here."

"Who's Sorenson?" I repeated.

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it, Detective? I mean we're all professionals here, right?"

"Actually, I'm not." I interjected. "Who's Sorenson?"

I was definitely curious and eager to find out who this Agent Sorenson was and why Beckett had reacted in the way she had. But as you could see I was being ignored by the Captain and Beckett right at this minute.

"No sir, not a problem." Beckett announced stiffly.

"For what it's worth, that missing little girl doesn't care about your history." Captain Montgomery pointed. "Nor do her terrified parents. They just want their baby back alive."

So, Beckett and this Agent Sorenson had history together. That was very interesting, I thought to myself. I definitely had to find out more about this. Captain Montgomery's phone started ringing.

"Where is he, sir?" Beckett said.

Captain Montgomery reached for his phone but before he answered the call, he pointed over to the living room.

"He's over there, talking to the parents."

Beckett turned and took a couple of steps towards the living room and I followed her. Peering into the room I saw the parents of the missing child. The parents, who I soon learned were Alfred and Theresa Candela, both aged in their thirties. Alfred was dressed in jeans and a paint splattered t-shirt. He was standing beside and talking to a tall, brown haired man dressed in a black business suit that definitely had been bought off the rack.

The man turned his head and caught sight of Beckett and me. His eyes immediately locked on Beckett. This guy had to be Sorenson. The way the two of them were looking at each other, even a blind man could see that there was a history between them.

Sorenson excused himself from Alfred and slowly came over to where Beckett was standing. A small smile rose to his face as he approached. I would have pegged Sorenson to be in his early or mid thirties, with a dimple in his chin that I'm sure there would be women out there who would have found appealing.

"Hello, Kate." Sorenson said, smiling.

"Hello, Will." Kate replied, a little reserved. "How long have you been back?"

"A couple of months."

Beckett nodded her head. I got the distinct impression that she was not happy that he had not called her since he had returned to New York.

"Something wrong with Boston?" She asked.

"Fresh lobster gets old fast." He chuckled. A moment later he turned serious. "You look good."

Oh yeah, there was definitely history between these two, I thought to myself. Something deeper than a mere passing fling.

"Thanks. I feel good." Beckett replied. She glanced in my direction and introduced me to Special Agent Will Sorenson. Sorenson gave me a tight lipped smile.

"The famous novelist." He said.

I could not help but feel the way he said it was with such distaste, like something he had to scrape off his shoe.

"Writer of wrongs." I quipped good naturedly.

Agent Sorenson immediately ignored me and turned to Beckett.

"So, Captain Montgomery filled me in on your little arrangement." He told her. "And I have no problem with it, as long as it doesn't interfere with the investigation." Sorenson did cast a warning glance in my direction.

"Oh, don't worry about me." I told him. "Quiet as mouse."

Beckett gave me a look of disbelief but chose to not make comment on my remark.

Special Agent Chisel Chin, sorry, I mean Agent Sorenson produced a photograph of a adorable looking little girl and showed it to Beckett. I peeked over her shoulder to take a look at the photo.

"Angela Candela. Two years old. Abducted this morning between 7.30 and 8am this morning. Parents were home at the time." Sorenson informed us.

"How do you get abducted when your parents are home?" I questioned.

Sorenson levelled a look at me that had me closing my mouth pretty quickly.

"Dad got up with the kid about seven, let mom sleep in." Sorenson said, continuing the briefing. "He planted Angela in front of the tube with a juice box and some cereal, then headed into his art studio."

As we walked to the studio I noticed the spilled cereal littering the floor in front of the television set and the discarded juice box.

"Obviously, he's a painter." Sorenson remarked in a disdainful tone.

There were a number of paintings both finished and half finished that were set against one wall. There was a cupboard that was full of cans of paint and paintbrushes, the entire room was full of artists paraphernalia. Against another wall was a large canvas sitting on an easel. The white canvas was sprayed with various shades of red paint streaks and blobs that seemed to depict a hand. The painting was not finished but even its unfinished state it did nothing for me, and I had no doubt that when it was finished my opinion of the piece would not change. Jackson Pollock, Alfred Candela was not.

"He just left his kid?" I said aloud.

"Did hear anything at least?" Beckett asked.

"He was listening to his iPod." Sorenson said with a shrug.

"Nothing like a little quality time with daddy." I remarked as I looked around the room.

I have to tell you that I found it a little hard to believe that Alfred Candela would park his daughter in front of the television and then go off and paint. Actually, I could not believe it. My estimation of Alfred dropped quite a few notches.

Being an artist myself, I can understand when the creative urge needs expression. However I never, ever planted Alexis in front of a television with some cereal and a fruit box and then scurried off to my office to write a chapter of the latest novel I was working on. I never did it even when I was way behind in my deadlines. Alexis' needs were always paramount. Her needs came first, second and last, and I had to work around that. I can recall the times, just like they were yesterday, when she was a toddler and I would sit with her to watch Sesame Street, and together we would learn our ABCs and our numbers.

After looking over the art studio we headed to the kitchen and over to the open window. Beckett went up to the window and inspected it. Alfred and Theresa joined us. Alfred was going over what had happened.

"When I couldn't find her, I looked everywhere for her, and then I saw the window." Alfred said. He was emotionally distraught and struggling to keep it together. Theresa Candela was fairing no better.

"The lock was jimmied from the outside." Sorenson informed Beckett.

"I...I ran outside. I looked for her."

Beckett paused in her inspection of the open window and turned to look at Alfred.

"Mr Candela, you live on the ground floor apartment with windows facing the alleyway. Most people would have bars." She said.

"We were going to. We just..." Theresa said.

"I never got around to it." Alfred sighed.

Beckett turned to look at the window again.

"We think the dirt's from the outside." Sorenson informed her.

"How could this happen in our own home?" Alfred said.

Having finished questioning the Candelas, they were allowed to go to their bedroom. Beckett left the kitchen and walked through the living room.

"So, our suspect climbed through the window, grabbed Angela and probably walked out the back door." Beckett theorised.

"Just like that?" I asked.

Beckett paused.

"We have her photo on the wires and are issuing an AMBER alert to port Authority and Tri-State area." Sorenson told her.

I had paused and saw into the Candela's bedroom. Theresa was sitting on the edge of the bed hugging a pillow and crying. Alfred, her husband was pacing the floor. My heart went out to Theresa. I could only imagine what misery and heartache she was going through right now. Not knowing what had become of her child, wondering if she would ever see Angela again. Trying hard not to think of the worst.

"I'll have my guys run down any registered sex-offenders and residential burglaries." Beckett announced. "What about the parents? Anyone they can think of?"

"No, not that they can think straight right now." Sorenson said.

"This thing goes south, they'll never think straight again." I said as I walked up to Beckett and Sorenson. Sorenson gave me a disdainful look but didn't say anything.

"Agent Sorenson?"

I turned around to the front door to find an attractive FBI Tech lady standing there. In her hands she held a couple of large metal brief case size cases. She held up the case for Sorenson to see.

"The phones over there." Sorenson pointed. "Get a tap on it."

I turned on a charming smile as the FBI Tech lady entered accompanied by an assistant. She returned my smile before she headed to find the Candela's telephone to set up the monitoring equipment that she was carrying. FBI Tech lady could hand cuff me any time, I thought to myself.

On turning around I saw that Special Agent Chisel Chin had stepped up close to Beckett. Real close and he whispered something to her. I did not hear what he said. He then stepped away from a motionless Beckett and walked away. As he did so, he cast a glance in my direction. It was a sort of looking down his nose, kind of look.

I could have let it get to me or I could have ignored it. I chose to ignore it. So Special Agent Chisel Chin did not like me. Now there's a revelation, right?

XXXXX

_**Tell me what you think of this chapter, a review would be appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The Case of Little Girl Lost

Part 2

Beckett and I, after having finished up at the Candela's apartment, headed back to the precinct. On the ride back Beckett had been unusually quiet and noticeably a little uncomfortable. As curious as I was to find out Beckett and Agent Chisel Chin I decided not to press her on the matter. I was learning when it came to Beckett not to push her on such matters. If she wanted to tell me she would and if she did not want to tell me, so be it. Still I wondered.

As you came imagine, it was a silent ride in the elevator up to the homicide floor.

"Six months." Beckett announced, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Six months, what?" I inquired.

"We dated for six months." Beckett explained.

I almost smiled at her confession. I had a feeling that she was going to break sooner or later.

"I didn't ask." I said staring at the door.

"Yeah, I know." She said. "You were not asking very loudly."

I turned to look at her profile and smiled.

"I know, I'm like a Jedi like that."

Though Beckett did not turn to look at me. I could tell she was rolling her eyes at that remark.

The elevator arrived on the Homicide floor and we stepped out and headed for the bullpen.

"So, how'd you meet?" I inquired.

Seeing that Beckett had broken the ice I thought I might as well try and get as much information from her that she would provide.

"Kidnapping." Beckett said crisply. "A six year old boy."

"How'd it end?"

"We got the guy."

I immediate sensed that there was more to the story than Beckett was letting on. There was a finality to her tone that brooked no further questions. So I did not ask but I have to tell you that my Spidey sense was piqued like you would not believe.

Entering the bullpen we found Detectives Esposito and Ryan at their desks and we stopped by.

"How'd we go on the parents?" Beckett asked Ryan.

Ryan consulted a sheet of paper that he was resting on a copy of one my books.

"Theresa and Alfred Candela. Married ten years. One child: Angela Candela." Ryan reported.

I perched myself on Esposito's desk and caught sight of Ryan's tie. It was so loud that it could be heard on the other side of the Atlantic. It was such a bright fluorescent blue colour it could light up half the city at night.

"Whoa!" I shouted, averting my eyes from the sight of the garish monstrosity hanging around Ryan's neck. "Sorry, sorry about that...that tie took me a little by surprise."

Esposito snickered like a naughty school boy.

"Okay. Get it all out." Ryan said unhappily. "This is a gift from my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Esposito chuckled.

"Already giving gifts, huh?" Beckett added, smiling.

"Today's our two week anniversary." Ryan proclaimed proudly.

This particular announcement from Ryan was greeted by a loud chorus of "Oohs" and laughter from the rest of us. Esposito turned to me.

"Two weeks! Is that the paper or silk?"

"I believe it's the whipped." I retorted.

I was pleased to see Beckett smiling and laughing along with the Esposito and me.

Ryan took the jibes and ribbing with reasonable good humour and a little bit of embarrassment. I certainly knew how he felt. I too had been on the receiving end of such garish gifts from girlfriends in the distant past which I had to wear, one or two much worse than what was hanging around. Ryan's neck, let me tell you.

Ryan allowed us to have our moment of fun before he steered us back to the case at hand.

"Yeah, yeah." He huffed. "One child: Angela Candela, aged two. Adopted."

"Adopted?" Beckett said in surprise.

"Yeah, two years ago." Ryan confirmed. "Mom, Theresa, she's fund manager at Keller Stanton. Dad's a small time artist. Shows at the Grayson Gallery in Chelsea once in a while. Neighbour says he stays home with the kid."

Beckett reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"Alright, here's a list of all the people who had access to the apartment." Beckett announced as she passed the paper to Ryan. "Babysitters, cleaning lady, super. Let's cross reference that with any registered sex offenders in the area, see if anyone had a thing for little girls."

"You thinking there's some creepy crawly probably scouted from the inside?" Esposito asked.

The phone on Beckett's desk started ringing and she started moving for her desk.

"Well the father said what he did this morning was part of a routine." Beckett replied. "So either somebody got lucky, or they already knew it."

I watched as Beckett answered her phone. I watched as her demeanour changed as she spoke to the caller. I heard her say that we would be right there. She put the phone down and turned to look at us.

"Looks like it wasn't a creepy crawly after all." She announced. " The Candelas just got a ransom call."

XXX

Beckett and I made excellent time in getting back to the Candelas apartment. Having the gumball and siren going certainly helped. We assembled in the Candelas' living room. Actually, Agent Chisel Chin and Beckett were sitting with the Candelas at a table with a recorder in the middle of the table, FBI Tech lady was sitting at the nearby coffee table with phone surveillance equipment arrayed in front of her. I was standing outside of this circle looking on. The recording of the ransom call was being played.

"We have your daughter." Said the voice of the kidnapper. The voice had gone through some electronic distortion device so that it came out sounding like an asthmatic Darth Vader.

"Please, she's just a child. Please don't hurt her." Came the voice of a pleading tearful Theresa Candela.

"Whether we hurt her is up to you. Whether she lives is up to you. You want your daughter, we want 750,000 dollars. You have twenty-four hours." Asthmatic Darth Vader said.

"I want to speak to her. I want to know she is safe." Theresa demanded.

There was a loud click as the kidnapper rang off.

Even though the kidnapper had used an electronic device to distort his voice, the menacing tone was still there and it sent a chill through to my bones. I could not help but picture myself in the place of the Candelas and wondering how I would be handling such a thing like this. I knew for certain that I would give up to my last dine to get Alexis back.

"They used an Internet Voice over IP service." Sorenson informed us.

"Meaning it's untraceable." Beckett replied.

Sorenson looked at the Candelas.

"Can you raise the 750?" He asked.

"It's everything we have." Theresa replied.

"If it means getting Angela back, we'll pay." Alfred Candela stated firmly.

"Then you should you getting your financial records together." Sorenson suggested.

"Mrs Candela, is there anyone that you know that can help you?" Beckett asked. "An accountant, or maybe someone at your firm?"

"Nina could help." Alfred suggested.

Beckett looked at Alfred. "Nina?"

"My sister." Theresa explained. "She's a CPA."

"But even if we give them money, how can we be sure we'll get her back." Alfred said despairingly.

"You have to have hope." Sorenson said. "You have to imagine your little girl walking through that front door, safe and sound. Your daughter needs you right now. She needs you to have faith. To be strong."

Alfred Candela looked at Sorenson for a moment before he nodded his head slowly in understanding.

A short while later I walked in to the kitchen and found Agent Chisel Chin in there going over the transcript of the ransom call.

"You do this a lot? Kidnappings?" I inquired. "You seem to know what to say."

Sorenson paused in his studying of the transcript but did not look at me.

"It's not about what you say." Sorenson replied. "It's about controlling the situation. Controlling the emotions."

"You requested your ex-girlfriend for the task force. That doesn't indicate to me, a control over your emotions."

Sorenson stiffened a little.

"I requested Beckett because she's the best in the city."

"Not because you wanted to see her again?"

Sorenson stopped perusing the telephone transcript. He turned to look at me. Slowly he approached stopping only a foot or two from where I was standing. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

"How about you, Castle? You've written, what, twenty best sellers?"

"Well, twenty-six, but who's counting?" I shrugged.

"Why the sudden need to shadow a real detective?" Sorenson challenged.

"Well, the ones on TV seemed oddly fixated on their sunglasses."

"So, with all the fat, balding detectives in the NYPD, you just happen to end up shadowing her."

I could not help but smile at the G-man. "Must be fate."

At the time I did not realise how true those words would turn out to be. At the time I had thrown it out there just to taunt Special Agent Chisel Chin.

"Must be." Sorenson replied with a smirk.

I was all for continuing this back and forth with Special Agent Chisel Chin and I suspect he was up for going on with it as well. I have to say that I was enjoying pushing his buttons to see what kind of response I would get from him. However the proceedings came to an abrupt halt the moment Beckett walked into the kitchen. I don't think she would have been impressed with either of us if she saw us butting heads. Sorenson took a step away from me.

"The Candelas have pulled their financials." She reported. "Her sister is on the way. Anything from the transcripts?"

"It's clear the ransom demand has significance." Sorenson said. "Kidnappers make an issue about knowing what the Candelas have."

"They said it's everything they have." I pointed out.

"Whoever made the demand knows them well enough to know exactly what they're worth."

Ten minutes later Theresa's sister had arrived. Beckett, Sorenson and I came back to the living room and found Theresa sitting at the dining table with an assortment of documents and financial statements spread out over the table. Sitting beside Theresa was her sister, Nina Mendoza. Nina looked a couple of years younger than Theresa but there was an unmistakeable similarity that showed that they were siblings.

"How does it look?" Beckett asked as she approached the table.

"Detective, Agent Sorenson. This is my sister Nina." Theresa said.

"It's doable." Nina declared as she looked over the financial statements. "We'll market the stocks tomorrow morning. We'll wipe out their retirement account and both pensions. And you'll have to pay penalties."

As Nina was giving a briefing of how the Candelas would be able to get the money I glanced in the direction of the studio and spotted Alfred standing in front of that large canvas. He was throwing more paint at the canvas. This time he had chosen a bright yellow colour to throw at the canvas.

"He paints when he's stressed." Theresa explained, having seen me looking at the studio.

I turned to look at Theresa.

"Does he sell much?" I asked.

"Some."

"That's generous." Nina said snidely.

Theresa shot her sister a dark look.

"Sorry." Nina said hurriedly.

"Why do you ask?" Theresa asked me.

"I don't know many artists with their own pension account."

Nina explained that her sister had set up the pension account for Alfred and Angela in case anything should happen to Theresa. I started to ask another question but Sorenson interrupted.

"Mrs Candela, we think the specificity of the amount of the ransom demand suggests the kidnappers had knowledge of your finances."

"Was there anyone who might have had a grudge against you?" Beckett asked. "Or maybe someone close to you who needed the money now?"

"No one who would do something like this." Theresa replied.

"How about Doug Ellers." Alfred Candela called out.

Everyone turned to look at Alfred. He was standing in the doorway of his studio. He was wiping paint off his hands with a dirty rag. His eyes were focused on his wife as he came forward.

"Who's Doug Ellers?" Beckett said looking at Theresa.

"Someone I worked with, but, no, I can't imagine..."

"What about those messages he left you at work?" Alfred interjected. "Remember you filed those complaints with HR?"

"I know what happened, Alfred!" Theresa said loudly and angrily at her husband.

Alfred absorbed the sting of the retort silently. He turned on his heels and walked back into his studio.

"Mrs Candela, I know how hard this is." Sorenson said smoothly, pouring oil on troubled waters. "It's understandable to get frustrated. But, please...we need to know everything."

Theresa nodded her head slowly as she reined in her emotion.

"Ellers ran an asset management group." She said. "They weren't performing, so I let him go."

"Did he ever threaten you?" Sorenson asked.

"Well he blamed me for his divorce." Theresa replied. "He said his wife left him because I fired him, and..."

Theresa stopped speaking. A look of concern swept across her face. We all saw the look on her face.

"And what?" Beckett pressed her.

"And she took his kids." Theresa said in a low voice.

XXX

We made a small procession, Beckett, Sorenson, Esposito, Ryan and I as we headed for the interrogation room where the suspect Doug Ellers had been deposited. Beckett was quickly scanning through the file on Ellers that had been passed to her. Normally she would have spent a little time familiarising herself with the file before commencing an interrogation but time we did not have.

"Where did you find him?" Beckett asked.

"In line at Off-Track Betting." Ryan reported.

"ESU just hit his apartment. No trace of the kid." Esposito added.

"That's not good." Sorenson murmured.

We reached the door to the interrogation room. Ryan and Esposito headed for the observation room. Sorenson had his hand on the door handle. He looked at Beckett.

"Pressure interview." He told her. "I'll take the lead."

Beckett nodded her head.

Sorenson paused again when he saw me starting to follow Beckett.

"No." Sorenson announced, looking at me.

"He'll be fine, Will." Beckett said.

"Kate, I don't care how big a fan of his you are. He doesn't come in the room."

Two things I got out of this moment. One, I was touched that Beckett was standing up for me. I had not expected it and was pleasantly surprised. The other thing was that she was a big fan of me. Well, that should not have come as a big surprise, after all she did subscribe to my website.

I was not about to put Beckett on the spot in front of her ex-boyfriend. My feelings whatever they have been were secondary to finding Angela Candela. She came first.

"Fine. That's fine." I said and started walking towards the observation room. I paused and looked back. Beckett had one of her patented glares directed at Agent Chisel Chin. I leaned towards him.

"Uh, just for the record, though...how big a fan is she?" I asked Sorenson.

I did not get an answer to that question because Ryan called to me to join him an Esposito in the observation room or as he described it, 'the bleachers' to see how the Feebees did it.

Entering the observation room I walked up to the window. Esposito and Ryan joined me there and we stared into the interrogation room where Doug Ellers was sitting. He was aged in his late forties, dressed in a grey rumpled business suit white shirt but no tie. His uncombed hair was in need of a cut.

The door of the interrogation room opened and Beckett walked in first. Sorenson followed her in.

"Mr Ellers, Detective Kate Beckett NYPD." she announced as she sat down at the table opposite Ellers.

"Special Agent Sorenson, FBI." Sorenson said. He remained standing. He looked at Ellers. "When was your last contact with Theresa Candela?"

"Theresa Candela? Wha...what's going on?" Ellers replied, looking a little confused.

"Just answer the question." Beckett snapped.

"What did she say about me?" Ellers asked.

"Let's talk about what you said to her." Sorenson said.

Sorenson pulled out a small recorder from his pocket. It had been given to him by Ryan who had started digging information once Beckett had phoned the boys with Ellers' name as a possible suspect and to bring him in. Sorenson placed the recorder in the middle of the table and pressed play. A moment later Ellers' angry voice came through.

"I gave you six years if my life. Six years! My profits built your whole division. And now you want to bend me over? You want to cut me out? Well, Karma's a bitch, Theresa. You burn my house down. I'm gonna burn yours down."

Sorenson clicked off the recorder and looked at Ellers.

"You left that three months ago, just after your wife left." Sorenson told him.

"Yeah, so? Every word of it's true." Ellers defended himself.

"It's harassment." Beckett pointed out.

Ellers looked at Beckett.

"Oh, what's she gonna press charges now?"

"Yeah. Kidnapping, assault, breaking and entering." Sorenson threw at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ellers demanded.

"Somebody kidnapped Angela Candela this morning." Beckett informed him.

"What? Kidnapped." Ellers looked shocked.

Sorenson leaned close to Ellers.

"Hurting someone else's child isn't the way to get back your own." he said.

"No, no, no. This isn't me. Theresa may not be my favourite person, but I would never harm a child." Ellers insisted.

"You're ex-wife wasn't so sure." Beckett said. "According to your divorce papers, there were allegations of violence."

"My ex-wife was looking for a payday, that's all." Ellers retorted.

"You're not looking for a payday, are you, Mr Ellers?" Sorenson questioned.

"You have the wrong guy." Ellers insisted.

The interrogation continued for a little while longer but Ellers kept insisting he had nothing to do with Angela's kidnapping. Neither Sorenson or Beckett could break him. Watching the interrogation from the observation room I got the feeling that he had not been involved in the kidnapping.

Esposito, Ryan and I emerged from the observation room at the same time Beckett and Sorenson emerged from the interrogation room. We started walking through the bullpen.

"Run him down. Where he was all morning. Who can vouch." Sorenson's orders were directed to Esposito and Ryan. The boys immediately broke off and headed off to their desks to carry out the Special Agent's orders.

"Pretty clear it wasn't him." I piped up.

"You a mind reader too?" Sorenson threw at me snidely.

"Come on. If he was your guy, he'd be downplaying his feelings for Theresa, not wearing them on his sleeve."

We had reached Beckett's desk and I immediately sat down in my chair.

"A couple dozen best sellers doesn't make you a criminologist." Sorenson retorted.

I looked up at Sorenson. "I also don't need a weatherman to tell me the sky is blue."

Beckett threw down the file she was holding onto the the desk.

"Oh, for godsake." She said angrily. "Why don't you both just drop your pants and get it over with?"

I glanced up at Agent Chisel Chin. "I'm game." I quipped.

I was more than willing to drop my pants and have a measuring contest there and then. I don't like to brag, you know, but...anyway, I digress.

"The fact is, you're both right. He probably didn't do it, but when a child's life is at stake, we have to be sure." Beckett informed us. She still looked angry and sounded it. "We have to question everything we think we know."

I have to admit that what Beckett said made sense.

"You guys, keep Ellers on ice until we can trace every second of his morning." Beckett said to Esposito and Ryan. The boys nodded their heads in acknowledgement. "Will, you and I are going back to the Candela's. We're going to profile all of their associates."

Sorenson nodded his head and started to leave the bullpen heading for the stairs. Beckett turned away from her desk and began to follow him. I rose from my chair.

"What should I do?" I called out to Beckett.

Beckett stopped, turned and walked back to me. I could see the stress on her face and in her eyes that this case was causing her.

"I need you to go home." Beckett said quietly.

Normally I would have protested, or pouted or something. But this time I didn't. Even I realised that this was not the time for petulant acts of childish behaviour. I certainly did not need to add further to Beckett's stress levels.

"Okay." I replied in a low voice. I fixed her with a look. "But if you need me, call. Even if it's just to talk."

Beckett did not say anything she just stared at me. She was probably stunned at my concerned and compassionate tone. I offered her a small brief smile before I turned on my heels and headed out of the bullpen for the elevator.

XXXXX

_**Tell me what you think of this effort.**_

_**Con **_


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The Case of Little Girl Lost

Part 3

Entering Casa Castle I heard the dulcet tones of my mother speaking to someone. Looking about there was no sign of her in the living room. I quickly realised that Mother was in my office. Slowly I approached to the door to my office and sure enough there she was. She was seated behind my desk reclining in my chair looking for all the world like she owned the place. There was a young man seated on the other side of the desk listening to her.

I suddenly realised that Mother was conducting one of her life coaching classes. That was confirmed when I saw the name plate sitting on the desk: _Martha Rodgers, Life Coach_. Mother was so involved in trying to tell her client that the source of his power was him, that she did not see me enter.

"Howdy, Mother." I called out, an amused grin on my face.

Mother was startled by my appearance. She had a deer-caught-in-headlights look on her face when she found me standing there looking bemused.

"Hello. Well, you're here." She stammered and then forced a laugh out. "I'm just finishing up a session in...my office..."

"I'm so flattered you have my framed book covers in my office." I remarked, glancing at the book covers.

"Well, a coach can never be too proud." Mother replied, having recovered from her initial shock.

The guy in the chair had gotten to his feet. He gathered up his knapsack and nervously looked at me.

"Mr Castle, I just want to thank you for being so honest about your struggle with persistent and chronic writer's block." he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, Todd is an aspiring novelist, so I shared with him your inspiring tale of triumph over adversity." Mother said quickly.

"Well, how courageous of me." I said smirking. I looked at Todd. "Good luck, Todd."

Todd produced a check which he handed over to Mother informing her that he would take the year-long package. Mother was more than pleased for that. She saw Todd out with the promise to see him next week.

I picked up the name plate off my desk and made my way to the kitchen. After seeing Todd off Mother came and joined me in the kitchen.

"Well nice to see all those years as an actress have really paid off." I remarked.

"I'll have you know, Todd is a very bright spirit in need of direction." Mother retorted.

I was less than pleased that mother was using the loft for her life coaching sessions.

"Mother it's bad enough that you're slandering me, do you have to commandeer my office to do your New Age coddle sessions?"

"Richard, you can't expect me to pay Manhattan rates for office space."

I set the name plate I had been holding on the kitchen island and moved around it to the fridge.

"Well, how's this? You can't beat this location." I said. "Proximity to beverages and sharp utensils."

I waved my hand before I opened the fridge and took out a beer.

"Sweetheart, as your life coach, I urge you to say nay to your inner naysayer. I call that a Marthaism."

Mother opened the fridge and grabbed herself a beer.

"How is it that you don't know who my father is, you don't know how your ex-husband stole all your money, yet you are giving life-coaching advice?"

Those were a couple of mysteries that I had pondered on long and hard. but had come to the conclusion that I was never going to solve and left it at that. Still, it did not stop me from posing the questions to Mother from time to time, like now.

"Mistakes are the building blocks of wisdom. A Matharism. Besides, Freud was an addict. It didn't stop him from helping people." Mother pointed out.

"Sadly, faced with his mother's twisted-yet-unimpeachable logic, Richard Castle's head exploded." I said, staring off into space. There was no way I was going to win this. I just had to live with it.

"Ah, well." Mother chuckled. "So, why are you home so early?"

I turned to look at Mother.

"Well, I thought I'd take a little breather." I explained. "Working on a kidnapping case, a little girl."

"No wonder you're so surly." Mother's face filled with concern. "Those poor parents, having a child ripped away. I can't imagine how they must feel."

"Is Alexis home?"

"She's upstairs."

"Feeling a deep-seated need for a hug." I explained.

For most of the day I had been thinking about my own daughter.

Mother said that it was perfectly understandable this need I had to hug my daughter. She said that we were all pod-mates. She explained it as the pea pod bond. The bond that exists between a parent and a child. The bond between Mother and me, the bond between me and Alexis. Whether we like it or not we are all peas in a pod. Everyone who has ever had a child was in the pod forever.

"The pea pod bond." I intoned.

"Yeah." Mother nodded.

Despite the New Age mumbo jumbo Mother did have a point, I must admit. It got me to thinking and a thought occurred to me. I put down my beer and left the kitchen, calling out to Alexis as I did so. I was heading for the door.

"Thank you Mother." I said. "I'll deduct my session fee from your rent."

"What? You might want to consider the year long package." Mother suggested. "It's a bargain."

As I was passing the stairs Alexis came down the stairs in response to my calling. I ambushed her with a big hug. It made me feel a lot better, let me tell you.

"What was that for?" My startled daughter asked.

"Just a pea pod thing." I informed her. "Gram will explain."

I soon raced out the door and into the night, so to speak.

XXX

For the next part of the story, or a little bit of it, I have to thank my beautiful and ever inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life.

Beckett and Sorenson had spent the afternoon and early evening with the Candelas profiling their friends and associates. It was an exhausting exercise. Sorenson had gone into the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Beckett walked into the kitchen a short while later after having taken a call from the boys.

Sorenson turned his head and saw Beckett enter.

"Want some?" He said holding up a cup.

"Yeah, thanks."

Sorenson passed over his cup and poured himself another.

"I just got word from my guys, and Ellers is a dead end." She informed him. "The owner of the Paradise Diner on East 62nd vouched that he was having his usual poached eggs this morning."

"Would have been too easy, right? Or over-easy." Sorenson said with a grin.

"That's like something Castle would say."

"You like him."

"No. I just, umm...I don't know. I think he's interesting." Beckett said.

"So you're not...?"

"Together? No..." Beckett shook her head.

It was around about this moment that I arrived at the Candela's apartment. In response to my question where Detective Beckett was, one of the FBI agents pointed me in the direction of the kitchen. As I approached I heard Beckett and Agent Chisel Chin talking. I was suddenly curious and decided to hang back.

Yes, yes, I know I should not have been eavesdropping, you don't have to tell me. In my defence I will say that I was curious and inquisitive, and I wanted to know more about Beckett. Believe me when I tell you that I have paid for that little episode when my beautiful and ever inspiring and ever extraordinary partner in life found out about it.

"I meant to call." Sorenson said. "Must've picked up the phone a dozen times."

"Yeah, I know." Beckett replied. "You meant to do a lot of things. That's why you left, remember?"

Even where I was hiding I could hear the pain in Beckett's voice. A sadness. They may have dated for only six months but this had been a relationship that had meant a lot to her.

"Boston was a great opportunity."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't. I'm just saying it was a choice. That didn't include me."

"You could've come." Sorenson suggested.

"And then what? Join the Boston PD, and then you have to move to Phoenix, and then Cleveland. And then you're back here. I mean, we both know what that life is all about."

"Didn't stop me from missing you. Missing us." Sorenson said softly. "Sundays in the park. Those ridiculous neon ice skates at Rockerfeller Centre."

"I'll have you know that those ice skates are awesome." Beckett laughed.

"It wasn't the skates."

"Will...I...I..."

I chose that moment to make my entrance. Walking into the kitchen I found Beckett and Sorenson in a heated liplock.

"Oh. I thought cops and Feds hated each other." I remarked with a smirk.

Beckett and Sorenson broke apart looking awkward and embarrassed. They were like a pair of school kids having been caught by the teacher behind the shelter shed.

"They say justice never sleeps. I think I know why." I grinned even more.

"We were just...uh..." Beckett stammered, her cheeks colouring.

"Being consenting adults." I finished for her, giving her an out. I had my moment of fun.

"I thought I told you to go home." Beckett said.

"I did go home." I replied. But, then my mother told me something that couldn't wait." I said.

"You live with your mother?" Sorenson said, looking surprised or amused, I could not quite tell.

"Yeah. Apparently, we're peas in a pod." I replied. "But the important point is, Angela is adopted."

Beckett frowned at me. "So?"

"So, prior to giving up her baby, the birth mother would have been given background on the Candelas. Specifically, their ability to support the child."

Beckett's eyes narrowed as she thought over what I had just said.

"Knowledge of their finances." she said a moment later.

"Really, Kate." Sorenson scoffed. "We're going to waste time on the insights of Nancy Drew here?"

I looked across to Sorenson. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" I asked. "Because Nancy Drew solved every case."

Sorenson gave me a dismissive smirk.

I turned and to look at Beckett. She held my gaze.

"Look, okay, and I'm quoting here, 'When a child's life is at stake, we have to be sure. Which means we have to question everything we think we know'."

That got through to Beckett. A look of resolve settled on her face. They had few leads or clues to follow and the ones they had investigated had turned into dead ends. I had just offered up a possible new lead that could be followed, that had to be checked out.

Special Agent Chisel Chin was not keen, I could tell he wanted to dismiss what I had just brought to the table. What ever objection he was thinking of voicing was silenced by a single look from Beckett.

As we filed out of the kitchen Beckett gave me a tired but grateful smile. I could not help but smile back, giving her a look of a puppy who just had his tummy tickled.

XXX

The following morning Lucia Gomez was sitting in the interrogation room being questioned by Beckett and Sorenson. Lucia was a dark haired Hispanic girl aged eighteen. She was nervous as you can well imagine having the cops front up to your place and then escort you to the precinct to answer some questions. Lucia if you haven't guessed already, was the birth mother.

I was once again standing in the bleachers, otherwise known as the observation room watching the interrogation. Agent Chisel Chin was still not allowing me to sit in. A rather petty attitude to take I would have thought but there you have it. Sorenson was prowling back and forth in the interrogation room like a caged lion before he decided to sit down beside Beckett.

Lucia had been in junior high school when she had fallen pregnant and decided to give up the baby. Sorenson said that she had two years to think about the decision to put the baby up for adoption.

"What am I doing here?" Lucia demanded. "What is this about?"

"We're talking about the baby and regretting your decision." Beckett told her.

Lucia frowned. "My decision? Well, I don't regret my decision."

"Then why did you try to find her?" Sorenson asked.

"What are you talking about?" Lucia said to Sorenson, frowning.

Beckett opened a file she had in front of her and held up a form for Lucia to see.

"This is a petition you filed with the adoption agency a couple of months ago."

Beckett then placed the form in front of Lucia.

"It's a form requesting the identity of the adoptive parents of Angela." Beckett said.

"A signed form." Sorenson added.

Lucia picked up the petition and examined it. Her face creased into a frown as she checked the signature.

"No. That's not my signature." Lucia was emphatic.

"Lucia." Beckett said in a firm tone. "I'm not..."

Lucia pulled out her purse and opened it.

"No, really. Look you can see for yourself."

Lucia pulled out her driver's license and passed it over to Beckett.

"That's not my signature." Lucia insisted. "Why? What's going on? What happened to her? Is she okay?"

Beckett inspected the driver's license that Lucia had given her. She cast a glance in Sorenson's direction. I could tell from Beckett's look that the signatures did not match. Lucia Gomez had not been the one who had filed the petition with the adoption agency.

"Did anyone in your family object to the adoption?" Beckett asked Lucia.

"No, no one." Lucia replied. "My mom even helped me with it."

"And the father?" Sorenson asked.

"Juan? He was in Iraq when I had her." Lucia said. "But we talked about it and he was cool."

"Are you sure about that?" Beckett pressed.

A look of uncertainty appeared on Lucia's face.

"Is he still in Iraq?" Sorenson asked.

"No, he got back a couple of months ago."

XXX

Beckett spent a few more minutes with Lucia Gomez obtaining as much information on the birth father Juan Restrepo and where he could be found. It was not long before we were all rolling out of the precinct. I was more than a little miffed to find myself riding with Esposito and Ryan and not with Beckett. Agent Chisel Chin took shot gun in Beckett's car. I would have complained and pouted a little bit but this was a kidnapping case and the clock was ticking, and I know what Beckett would have told me if I had complained and pouted, I could do that later.

Juan Restrepo worked as a car detailer at an uptown parking garage. Esposito, Ryan and I were parked out the main entrance of the parking garage with the car's engine running. Beckett and Sorenson would move on the suspect and try and pick him up.

The guys and I had not been waiting long before we heard over the radio Beckett's voice calling us into action. Esposito gunned the engine and the car sped off in a cloud of burnt rubber as we headed for the parking garage's entrance. We drove up the ramp and saw Restrepo coming down as fast as his legs could carry him. In the background Sorenson was giving chase. Ryan and Esposito were out of the car with their guns drawn. Restrepo came to a halt with his hands in the air. The boys moved in quickly and had him cuffed.

Restrepo was marched up the level where his car was parked. Beckett took Restrepo aside and started questioning. Sorenson popped the trunk of Restrepo's car and began to inspect what was in there. I watched Beckett talking to Restrepo for a few moments before I turned and walked over to Sorenson.

"What? No good cop, bad Fed?" I inquired.

"The guy did two tours in the Gulf." Sorenson replied as he continued to rummage through the trunk. "I go over there, he'd turn it into a pissing match. But Kate, she's got a way of sneaking up on people." There was a small smile on his face when he said that.

"You mean like last night?" I asked.

Okay, okay, yes, I was trying to bait the guy. Agent Chisel Chin was not my favourite person so I was trying to get a rise out of him. To his credit Agent Chisel Chin did not rise to take the bait. He continued inspecting the trunk. I heard Ryan, who inspecting the interior of Restrepo's car, complaining rather loudly that the guy detailed cars for a living and he should have taken more pride in his car.

Sorenson finished his inspection of the trunk and he closed the lid and then turned to rest against it. He looked over and watched as Beckett continued her questioning of Restrepo. I leaned against the car.

"I'm just saying." I continued. "Looked like quite a kiss."

"You jealous, Castle?" Sorenson cast a glance in my direction.

"Me? No. Though you have to admit, I was right."

Sorenson turned to look at me. There was smirk on his face.

"You are jealous." He accused. "That I hooked her."

"What's to be jealous?" I shot back. "You couldn't reel her in."

"We'll see about that."

Agent Chisel Chin had a cocky, confident look about him when he said that. I will admit that the thought of wiping that cocky look off his face did cross my mind. However, those thoughts had to be put aside when Beckett having finished her questioning of Juan Restrepo, handed him over to a pair of uniforms and came over to report what she had been able to get out of Restrepo.

Restrepo had told her that he had been eighteen years old when Lucia got pregnant, six months after learning the news he got deployed to Iraq and he never got the chance to see his little girl. Over in Iraq he saw many kids, so when he got back he wanted to see his little girl, to make sure she was alright. He admitted to filling out the form and putting Lucia's name on it. He managed to get an address from the adoption agency because the guy there had served in Iraq too and he felt bad for Restrepo. Restrepo was wounded in an IUD attack, the upshot being that he would never be able to have kids again.

When Beckett accused Restrepo of kidnapping Angela, he showed signs of genuine shock.

All the same Sorenson ordered that he be taken back to the precinct for further questioning.

XXX

Beckett, Sorenson and I were in the break room. I was sitting down and looking through the open doorway over to Ryan's desk. Sitting next to the desk was Restrepo, with his head in his hands, worrying about his missing child. Ryan and Esposito had questioned him further but had gotten little from him than what he had already told us. My gut feeling was telling me that he was not the kidnapper. Sorenson was leaning on the espresso machine staring out the window at Restrepo. Beckett was standing near the doorway holding a cup of coffee, looking pensive. There was not much conversation going on between the three of us.

Esposito popped his head through the doorway. He had been checking on Restrepo's story.

"Birth dad. His story checks out." Esposito announced. "Limo company had him doing their fleet yesterday."

This was not the news were hoping for. Beckett gave Esposito a nod of acknowledgement for the report and the detective departed returning to his desk.

"I don't care." Sorenson said. "He had motive and opportunity."

"His motive was the instinct of fatherhood." I pointed out. And, yes I was speaking from experience of that of a father. "If he took her, he'd be with her, not at some twelve-dollar an hour detailing job."

"Doesn't matter." Sorenson said dismissively. "I want ESU on his place."

"It's not him Will!" Beckett shouted. "We're at square freaking one, and we got nothing!"

I was taken aback by Beckett's sudden emotional outburst. Frustration was etched deeply on her face.

"You can send ESU wherever you want but I'm not losing this one." Beckett added angrily before she stormed out of the break room.

I was suddenly intrigued. I had seen emotional outbursts from Beckett before, and yes one or two were my fault but I had never seen her like this. It was almost as if this was more personal than usual for her. I looked over to where Sorenson was standing. He was still staring out the window of the break room, his face tight.

"What did she mean, 'not losing this one'?" I asked.

At first I thought Sorenson was not going to answer my question. However, after a moment he spoke.

"The case we worked." He said.

"I thought you caught the guy?"

"We did, but...the kid was already dead." I saw the pained expression on his face.

I turned and looked through the door to where Beckett had stormed off to. She had her back to me. I saw the sag of her shoulders. I now understood the context to her angry outburst and why she had not given me all the details when I first asked her. This case for her was very personal. I now understood that she did not want a repeat outcome. As a father with a child I understood. I felt for her.

I was drawn away from my thoughts by the sudden interruption of Sorenson's phone. He took it out and answered the call.

"I'm on my way." He said crisply and then rang off. He walked out of the break room with me right on his heels. Sorenson went up to where Beckett was standing.

"Another call from the ransomer." He informed her.

XXXXX

_**Thoughts?**_


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The Case of Little Girl Lost

Part 4

We arrived at the Candela's apartment and assembled in their living room. A security guard had just delivered the ransom money the kidnappers were demanding. The FBI Tech lady briefed Sorenson and the rest of us.

"They asked for seventy-five packs of hundreds, randomised serial numbers and warned against bait money, dye packs and trackers." FBI Tech lady said.

"Sounds like they know your play book." I remarked.

"They were detailed, down to the make and colour of the backpack." FBI Tech lady said, holding up a grey green backpack.

"Drop instructions?" Beckett asked.

"We wait for their call."

"All right." Sorenson announced, taking command of the situation. He looked at FBI Tech lady. "Let's get the money set and be ready to make the drop."

Alfred was standing in the doorway of his studio started frowning.

"But they didn't tell us where to bring the money." He said.

"They're testing you." Beckett informed him. "It's not unusual."

"Which means, before we make the drop, we'll need to test them." Sorenson added. "We'll need proof they have Angela and that she's okay."

"What if they don't give any, what if they refuse?" Alfred countered.

Theresa, who had been standing in front of Alfred rounded on him.

"How can you think that?" She said angrily.

"I'm just saying..."

"You think she's dead."

"No. Of course not." Alfred said, looking stunned by his wife's outburst.

"I should've have gotten up. I shouldn't have let you watch her!" Theresa shouted angrily and tearfully.

"Don't say that."

"Don't tell me what to say!" Theresa screamed. "Tell me, Alfred, was it worth it."

Theresa pointed to the canvas her husband had been throwing paint at. Looking around she grabbed a large vase, hurling it at the painting. The vase smashed against the painting.

"Was it worth our little girl?" Theresa sobbed. "Oh my God."

Theresa stormed off. Alfred looked pale, stunned by his wife's outburst. His eyes swept the room taking the rest of us who had witnessed it. He tried not to look embarrassed as he turned and into his studio to survey the damage the vase had caused.

I could not help but feel for both parents, what terrors they were going through right now and feeling helpless, not knowing what to say to them, unable to help them get their little girl home.

Beckett made her way across the living room to where Theresa was standing. I may not have not known what to say but Beckett knew just what to say, and how to say it.

"Mrs Candela...Theresa...you can't give into your fear." Beckett said in a gentle tone. "Neither you nor your husband is responsible for what has happened."

Theresa slowly nodded her head.

The Candela's phone started ringing. Suddenly the living room and the people in it became energised. Beckett drew Theresa to the table. Alfred turned away from surveying his damaged painting and stared at the table. Theresa sat down.

"Remember, no proof, no money." Sorenson reminded Theresa. "We have to be firm on that."

Theresa nodded her head in understanding and then wiped away the tears from her eyes.

"Okay, here we go." Sorenson said.

Theresa picked up the phone and answered the call.

"Listen carefully." Said asthmatic Darth Vader. "Any deviation and your daughter dies."

"I understand." Theresa said in a firm voice.

"A civilian, not a cop, must make the drop or we kill the girl. We see police or FBI and she dies." Asthmatic Darth Vader instructed. "You have the money?"

"Yes. 750, like you said."

Then asthmatic Darth Vader instructed that the money be placed in the backpack and to take it to the northeast corner of 1st Avenue and 47th. There was a mailbox there and taped underneath it was a cell phone. They would then text further instructions once the cell phone was retrieved. Asthmatic Darth Vader added that when they had the money, then they would call with Angela's location.

"Ask for proof that Anela is okay." Beckett whispered to Theresa.

"You wont get any money until I know my little girl is okay." Theresa said.

For what felt like an eternity, at least that is what it felt to me, there was silence on the other side of the line except for static. Then there was a little girl's voice calling out 'mama.'

"Hi sweetheart." Theresa said

Then little Angela was gone and asthmatic Darth Vader was back on the line.

"You have one hour."

Then there was a loud click as the call ended.

XXX

After the call Sorenson drew Beckett over to his mini command post, an area off the living room where a small couch, a couple of chairs and a coffee table had been set up. Sorenson had his laptop open and he had a detailed map of the area around 1st Avenue and 47th, and was quickly studying it. As he was doing that, FBI Tech lady came in and deposited the now full backpack on the coffee table and withdrew.

"Once they get paid, there's no incentive to keep her alive." Sorenson said in a low voice. "So, I'll make the drop. Figure we'll place our people at a one block radius from the mailbox."

"No. They said no cops." Alfred said in a firm tone.

Alfred's sudden appearance startled all three of us. Sorenson slowly turned to look up at the worried looking father.

"It's okay." He assured him. "I've done this before. They won't know I'm a FBI agent."

"And if they do?" Alfred questioned.

"Mr Candela, we need this to go as smoothly as possible." Beckett said.

"She's my daughter and we're going to follow their instructions to the letter." Alfred said as he struggled with his anger. "They said no cops. Look, I'm her father and I can do this. Do I make myself clear?"

Sorenson did not argue with Alfred. He merely nodded his head in response. Alfred turned and left the room. Sorenson turned to look at Beckett.

"No way we can send the father." He told her. "Too many things could go wrong. He's too emotional."

My eyes had fallen to the bulging backpack sitting on the coffee table and a thought came to me.

"What choice do we have?" Beckett said.

"Me." I announced.

Beckett turned around, shooting a quizzical look in my direction.

"What?"

"I'm not a cop." I pointed out. "I'm certainly not emotional."

Well, that last bit may not be totally true. I have been known to get a little emotional from time to time under certain circumstances but they did not need to know that.

"No. Absolutely not." Sorenson said emphatically.

"The NYPD already has a signed waiver from me. And, I hate saying this, but you're running out of time." I put forward in pleading my case.

Beckett had turned back to look at Sorenson.

"He's right." She said.

"You can't be serious." Sorenson look incredulous.

"He's been with me on cases before." Beckett told him. "He's good under pressure, and he's our best shot."

Was I hearing things? Did I really just hear Detective Kate Beckett lauding my abilities? I had been preparing to fight my case, to convince Agent Chisel Chin that I was their best hope and in the blink of an eye, Beckett had stepped in and backed me up. Not only backed me up but had gone out on a limb and said that I was their best hope. I could not believe it. Who says Christmas doesn't come early?

Sorenson paused to think about it and came to the realisation that he had no alternative. Alfred Candela would have kicked up a stink to high heaven if a cop or agent did the drop and I was the only civilian on hand who could do the job. With reluctance, great reluctance, he gave his approval to this plan.

He rose to his feet and said he was going to speak to Alfred about the change of plan while he sent Beckett and me to the bed room with FBI Tech lady—if you're expecting some lurid adolescent joke about me and two ladies in a bedroom, well you will be waiting for a long time. This was not the time for such jokes.

Beckett was pacing the floor of the bedroom while FBI Tech lady was wiring me up. When she was nearly finished Beckett stopped her pacing and turned to look at me.

"Okay, so this is usually the part where I ask if you've thought this through, and then I remembered you don't think things through." Beckett said with a suggestion of a smile on her lips.

FBI Tech lady had her hands under my shirt.

"Cold hands, cold hands." I gasped.

"These people are dangerous, Castle." Beckett said sternly. "You need to stay alert and focused."

"Alert and focused, got it." I replied.

I let out another gasp as FBI Tech lady put her hands under my shirt again.

"Maybe if you...maybe if you just rub them together for a second." I suggested to FBI Tech lady. FBI Tech lady smiled and shook her head but continued working.

Alright I will admit I was playing up a little bit.

"Wait, alert and what?" I asked Beckett.

Beckett shot me a frown.

"You're good to go." FBI Tech lady announced.

"Thanks." I said and started doing up the buttons of my shirt.

When I finished buttoning up my shirt I looked up and saw Beckett staring at me. There was a look of real concern on her face. I did not know whether to be surprised or touched that she was showing concern for my welfare. I took a punt on the latter.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." I assured her.

Beckett nodded her head. She bit on her lip a moment before she spoke again.

"Look, about last night...what happened in the kitchen, I...I...just..."

"Oh, listen, you don't need to explain, that..."

"I don't?"

"Unless you want to."

"Uh, no, you know, I just figured for the character, for Nikki Heat." Beckett said hesitantly.

"I think I understand Nikki better than you think I do." I replied.

Beckett nodded her head again.

"Be careful, okay?" She said in a low voice.

"Do I detect actual concern for my well being?" I smiled.

Beckett took a step towards me. "Screw this up and I'll kill you." She said.

"That's more like it." I chuckled.

Beckett led me out of the bedroom. She will deny it till she is blue in the face but there was definitely a note of genuine concern for what I was about to do. I saw it in her hazel eyes and I heard it in her tone of voice. Rather than having an awkward moment between us I resorted to humour. And once again Beckett took the out I offered her.

XXX

I had been deposited on the street by a sunglasses wearing FBI agent. Agent Chisel Chin was adamant that one of his people deliver me rather than Esposito or Ryan. I don't exactly know why he had insisted on this, he never explained properly, other than to say that this was his case and we'd be doing it his way. Okay Mr Sinatra, whatever you say, I had thought to myself at the time.

I hoisted the backpack over one shoulder and started walking along 1st Avenue and slowly blended into the passing pedestrians. I knew somewhere in amongst the people behind me was either Esposito or Ryan, or both, shadowing me, and elsewhere there were FBI agents keeping watch.

I could not help feeling a little excited as I walked. I could not help but feel like I was a spy who was being followed by enemy spies. My eyes casually swept the street ahead of me looking for anyone who might be the kidnapper, or one of the kidnappers but to my disappointment they all seemed to be your typical New Yorkers, no one looked like a kidnapper. It might have helped if some one was wearing a t-shirt with the words 'Kidnapper' emblazoned across the front but that would be asking for too much. I wondered what one of my heroes would have done in a situation like this. What would James Bond do? I quickly realised that Bond would not lower himself to do such a menial task like this. No, he would have left donkey work like this to one of the endless flunkeys and superspy-wannabes that fictional spy movies seem to have in droves.

As I neared the corner of 1st Avenue and 47th Street I spotted the mailbox near the corner. All thoughts of what James Bond would do in such a situation flew out of my head as I told myself to concentrate. Nothing could sober me up quicker than to remind myself that a little girl's life was at stake.

"Okay, I have eyes on the target. Over." I reported as I slowed my approach. "Are you reading me?"

"We don't have to read you, we can see you. Now shut up and focus." Beckett's irritated voice crackled in my earpiece.

"Roger that, five by five." I replied.

I cast a look down the street and spotted the unmarked Crown Victoria with Sorenson behind the wheel and Beckett sitting in the passenger seat. Before turning my attention to the mailbox I saw that they both looked pensive as they spoke. I had a sudden wish to have been a fly on the ceiling just to listen in on what they were talking about. I had this burning sensation around my ears. Surely they weren't talking about me?

I reached the mailbox and did a quick look around to see if there was anyone taking a particular interest in the mailbox. I did not spot anyone, except for Esposito and Ryan who were hanging back near the corner.

Bending down I reached under the mailbox and felt around. My fingers found the taped phone.

"I feel like Michael finding the gun behind the toilet." I remarked.

I gave it a tug and the phone came away from underneath the mailbox. As I straightened up, the phone pinged, announcing the arrival of a message. I pulled off the tape that remained and called up the incoming message. I did a quick around.

"Uh, you might want to tell Ryan and Esposito to hang back." I said. "They just sent a text. It says 'we're watching you'."

"Could be just a rouse." Sorenson's voice said.

The phone in my hand pinged again.

"Nope. They just sent another one. It says 'You're wearing a black raincoat.'" I reported.

"Okay, so they can see you. It doesn't change anything." Beckett told me firmly.

My fingers quickly typed up the message: "U GUYS MAKING OUT?" and sent it to Beckett's phone. Nobody said that I could not mess with them. Risking a look in their direction I was pleased to see Beckett shaking her head. I could imagine an eye roll going along with that head shake.

Another message arrived. I read the text.

"Okay, it says, 'Cross the street, and head west on East 47th." I reported.

I took a couple of steps and paused.

"That's left, right?" I asked.

"Right." Beckett responded.

"Right, right or right, left?"

"Left!" Beckett and Sorenson shouted in unison. Loudly. Very loudly.

I could not help the small smile that rose on my lips as I contemplated whether I had permanent damage to my right ear as a result of their shouting. That time I could not help myself.

Carefully I crossed the street, managing to dodge a car or two, and a taxi and reached the other side. It would not have been all that good if I had gotten run down by a car. Just as I did the phone in my hand pinged once more. I glanced down at the phone.

"1201 1st." I informed them. "That's just ahead."

Before setting off to the destination the kidnappers had texted I did a quick look around to see if I could spot the kidnappers. No sign of them, they were well hidden from what I could see, or should that be couldn't see? I did spot Ryan and Esposito standing on the corner on the other side of the street.

I set off down the street, having to remind myself to not to run, just walk normally, casually. I was just an ordinary New Yorker out and about. Yeah right, an ordinary New Yorker. How many ordinary New Yorkers walk around with $750,000 in their backpacks? It was a little unnerving to have so many eyes on you, one set or maybe more than one set belonging to the kidnappers.

Just as I arrived at 1201 1st Avenue, I received another message from the kidnappers. I called it up as I entered the lobby of the building. It was a large lobby of what looked like polished ganite and steel. If I had the time I would have given it a closer inspection. What I did notice was there were a lot of people in the lobby, moving about.

"They want me to leave the bag at the shoeshine stand and then exit out the side." I reported.

It took me a couple of moments to locate the shoe shine stand and then I made my way to it, coming to stand by the side of the stand. A business man was sitting in one of the chairs on the stand reading a newspaper having his expensive black Oxfords shined. Both the business man nor the shoe shine guy took any notice of me.

"Alright I'm at the stand." I announced.

"Castle, leave the bag." Beckett said. "Make the drop and walk away."

I unslung the backpack and set it against the stand. I took one final look at my immediate surrounds and then set off for the side exit.

"I just left it, I'm heading out." I reported.

As I walked away I continued to swept the lobby around me, hoping to catch sight of one of the kidnappers. Unfortunately I did not see any one. I exited from the building and a moment later I was picked up by the FBI guy that had dropped me off.

XXX

I did not get to personally witness the fun and games that ensued just mere moments after I had walked out. I heard all about it from the boys themselves. Esposito and Ryan had followed me into the lobby of the building and made for the shoe shine stand. They were half way there when Ryan spotted a guy carrying the backpack. Esposito threw a flying tackle on the guy bringing him down. He opened the bag only to find that it contained nothing but rolled up newspapers.

As Esposito was lifting his head to look at the his partner, he spotted another guy with the same gren-grey coloured backpack. At Esposito's shout Ryan ran for the guy. He had gone barely a couple of yards when he pulled up short. He stared dumbfound as he took in the sight of many people walking through the lobby of the building all carrying the same green-grey coloured backpack.

A couple of hours later I found myself sitting in the Candela's living room. Beckett and Sorenson were there. Alfred and Theresa were sitting on a couch. There was a heavy tension in the air. The Candelas had just been advised of what had happened during the dropping off of the ransom money. There had been no emotional outbursts from either Alfred or Theresa but the anger was simmering very close to the surface though.

I have to say that they were taking this far better than I would, if I had been in their situation.

"The kidnappers posted an ad on Craigslist and said that this was a performance art piece for You Tube." Beckett advised.

"They sent out nearly two dozen of the backpacks." Sorenson added. "The poster used an IP anonymizer, making it impossible to trace."

"So we just do nothing?" Alfred said.

"Well, I managed to slip the phone that the kidnappers gave me into the backpack." I announced.

Theresa lifted her head and gave me a confused look. "I don't understand."

"Well, before I did that, I sent a message to Detective Beckett." I explained. What I had said in that message, Theresa did not need to know. Theresa frowned.

"The phone's under a bulk account so we can't trace its owner, but we can trace the ID."

I noticed Theresa put her head in her hands. A look of worry creasing her face.

"So far, we've pinged the phone to a twenty block radius on the Lower East Side." Sorenson said. He moved to the laptop sitting on the coffee table. He hit a key on the laptop and the on the screen there came a map of Manhattan with a shaded circle around the Lower East Side.

"We'll need another few hours to narrow it down." He added. "In the meantime, I moved a team into the area. They'll work the streets. Be ready to move when we have more information."

The Candelas accepted this information with stoicism. Looking at them I really felt for them. I wish I knew what to say to them. Funny isn't it? Here I was world famous writer and I could not think up the words to help them.

FBI Tech Lady tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me out of the room. I had forgotten I was still wearing some expensive government issue wiring equipment. I rose to my feet and followed her out of the room and to the bedroom where she proceeded to remove the wire. She still had cold hands but I was too deflated to make remark on it.

I was sitting on the bed as FBI Tech lady coiled up the wire I had been wearing when Beckett came into the room.

"Thanks." I said to FBI Tech lady.

"Mm-mmm." FBI Tech lady replied, gathered up her things and left the room.

Beckett came and sat down next to me on the bed. She notice my low mood.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I keep thinking, if only I saw who took the bag..."

After I had heard of the fiasco in the building's lobby I had started to chide myself for not being a little more observant. I kept thinking that if I had been more observant I probably would have seen the person who had taken the backpack that I had left by the shoe shine stand.

"Well, that was not your job." Beckett reminded me.

I knew that but I still thought I should have been more observant.

My gaze travelled across the room to the bureau where a framed picture of Angela Candela sat. I stared at the picture of a happy Angela clutching a stuffed white bunny.

"I can't imagine if anything like this ever happening to Alexis." I said in a low voice.

"Well get her back soon." Beckett said.

"Not as soon as we hoped." Sorenson announced.

Both Beckett and I turned to find a very unhappy looking Sorenson standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

"They must have found it and taken the batteries out." He said. "We just lost the signal from the phone."

XXX

Not being of any use to either the Candelas or Beckett I decided to head off home. Beckett did promise me to call if there were any new developments in the case. From the look on her face I got the feeling that there would not be any overnight.

After dinner I tried to write, working on the Nikki Heat novel but my heart nor mind was not fully in it. I discarded page after page that I had written to start again only delete what I had written. In the end I finally gave up trying to write and headed off to bed. However sleep proved to be elusive. Worrying about the fate of little Angela Candela kept me awake. I slept in fits and starts. Not even the steady patter of rain against the windows, normally a soothing sound, could assist me to get to sleep. Some time around three in the morning I gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed.

I wandered into my office and rather than sit by the window and watch the rain fall, which I sometimes like to do I picked up my laptop and sat down on the couch. I fired up the laptop and then called up the photos of the Candela apartment that I had taken with my phone. I scrolled through them slowly, studying them carefully, hoping to spot something that might give us a clue.

Sometime after four o'clock I heard a rustling in the doorway to the office. I didn't bother to look up because I knew who it was.

"Hey." Alexis said a little sleepily.

"Hey." I returned. "What are you doing up? Stressing about finals?"

"American Lit's today." Alexis explained. "I was having nightmares about Hester Prynne."

"Ah. The irony for you is, not getting an 'A' would cause you shame."

"So why are you up?" Alexis asked.

"Looking for a white rabbit." I replied.

"Lewis Carrol or _The Matrix_?" My well-read darling daughter inquired.

"I'm not sure yet." I murmured.

Alexis left her spot in the doorway and came over to the couch and sat down beside me. She peered over to see what was on the screen of the laptop.

"What did Beckett tell you about taking phone photos at the crime scene?" Alexis questioned.

"I don't know I wasn't listening." I replied.

After that episode with the hotel carpet Beckett had been quite adamant that I was not allowed to take photos of crime scenes, at least not without obtaining her permission first. Knowing that nine times out of ten her answer would be no, I chose not to ask her permission this time and took the photos anyway. Besides, I can't help it, I like getting a rise out of Beckett, it's one of my favourite sports.

I scrolled up a shot of Angela's bed that was covered with an assortment of stuffed animals of various shapes and sizes. I could not help but smile at the sight.

"See all the stuffed animals on the bed?" I said.

"Mm-mmm. It looks just like mine used to." Alexis said, smiling. "Remember when I had all those animals?"

The smile on my face grew deeper as the memories came flooding back.

"If by 'remember when' you mean Moneky-Bunkey—who has been washed so many times he looks like road kill now—then, yes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Alexis said, schooling her face, like she was playing poker. I found it adorable.

"Oh, then you wont mind, next time I see him, if I throw him out." I remarked, as I turned back to the laptop.

Quick as a flash my darling daughter reached out and grabbed my ear, giving it a painful twist. If I had been half asleep moments ago, I was now wide awake thanks to that painful jolt.

"Don't you dare. Don't." Alexis warned.

"Ooow, I won't, I won't, I won't." I promised.

Alexis released my ear and settled back. I was given a most painful reminder of how much she was attached to Monkey-Bunkey even though she was a teenager.

"So you think the bunny has something to do with the case?" Alexis inquired, noticing the photo of Angela clutching her stuffed white bunny.

"Well, I'll let you know when I go down the rabbit hole." I replied.

Alexis left me to it and went back to bed. I continued to study the photos. A few minutes later I realised that in none of the crime scene photos was there a sign of the stuffed white rabbit. I went through the photos several times to make sure, and each time I could not find the stuffed white rabbit.

That sudden discovery had me scrambling to get dressed and not long after I was flying out the front door of the loft.

XXX

By the time I arrived at the Candela's apartment the rain has stopped leaving the streets shinning. The leaden sky was slowly lightening. The sun would not be too long from breaking through the cloud cover.

The uniform stationed at the front of the apartment nodded a greeting as he allowed me into the apartment. I saw Agent Chisel Chin standing in the kitchen reading some report or another. He might not have been one of my favourite people but I had to take my hat off to him he was not leaving any stone unturned from the looks of things and sleep was a luxury he could not afford at the moment.

I did not bother him, instead I made a beeline for Angela Candela's room. I paused at the open doorway. It was not all the toys and stuffed animals that were strewn all over the room, on the floor and on the bed that made me pause. It was the sight of Kate Beckett asleep in the rocking chair. For a moment or two I found I had difficulty in breathing.

In the soft light of the bedside night light she looked so beautiful. The tensions in her face so visible during her waking hours as we worked the case had vanished, the sharp lines of her face had softened in her repose. I found myself wondering what it would be like to wake up to that sight every morning. I have always enjoyed watching her, as I have said before it is one of my favourite hobbies. Yet this was a first, a different environment, a different situation. A situation when she was at her most vulnerable. I could have stood there and gazed at her for all eternity.

However, I did not have all eternity. And certainly little Angela did not have all eternity. I forced my self to remember the reason why I had come to the Candela apartment. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the small flash light and switched it on. I lowered myself to my knees and crawled into the room, commencing my search for the stuff white bunny.

"Castle?" Came Beckett's sleepy voice.

I paused in my search of the floor and looked across to her. I had been trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake Beckett. I don't know how much sleep she had gotten in the past couple of days but I would be willing to bet it had not been much.

"Go back to sleep." I told her gently.

"What are you doing?"

So much for her listening to me. She looked adorable as she slowly came awake. I remained on my knees as I looked at her.

"When Alexis was little, she had a stuffed monkey that she could not live without." I told her. "One time we went on vacation, she forgot to pack him. I bought her another one, but she knew that it wasn't Monkey-Bunkey."

"So?"

Beckett frowned a little at what I had said. I wasn't sure if she was still half asleep and was witnessing the epilogue of whatever dream she had been having or it was an automatic reaction to whatever out of left field theory I was pitching.

"So..." I replied as I reached over and picked up a framed photo of Angela clutching her stuffed bunny and turned it so that she could see it. "There's two more pictures of her clutching this bunny out there." I said. "Where's the bunny?"

What ever remaining vestiges of sleep were suddenly gone from Beckett as she looked at me.

"You think whoever took Angela knew her well enough to take the bunny too?" She replied. I nodded my head. "But we already checked the Candela's list. Couple of teenage babysitters, a cleaning lady...They've all been cleared."

"Not all babysitters are teenagers. Sometimes they're people close to us." I pointed out. "Sometimes they're family."

I spoke from personal experience. Though I did not have to use all that many babysitter services when raising Alexis, there had been a few times, and when the babysitters were not available, Mother would step in to help out when she could.

Beckett suddenly was looking very alert.

"When did we lose the signal on the phone?" I asked.

"Right after we told the Candelas we were tracking it." Beckett replied.

Beckett gave me a small tight-lipped smile that rose all the way to her hazel eyes making them twinkle. In the future I would come to know that particular smile very well, and crave seeing it. I would come to call it her secret smile. The smile that was reserved only for me. But in this moment I basked in her silent approval. I just might have provided the break in the case that we needed.

She rose out of the rocking chair and held out her hand to me. I took hold of her hand and she helped me to my feet. My knees betrayed me a little but choosing that moment to pop in that unsettle way of reminding me that I was not as young as I used to be. That made Beckett smile a little more.

As much as I would have loved seeing that smile remain on her face, it did not last long. Her serious face returned in the blink of an eye as she walked out of the bedroom with me hot on her heels. She strode into the kitchen and walked up to Sorenson.

"Theresa's sister, Nina. You got an address?" She told him.

XXX

It took a little convincing Agent Chisel Chin that the kidnapper was Theresa's sister. Especially when he learned that I was the one who had provided the breakthrough. What turned him around

was when Beckett reminded him that we had lost the signal on the phone shortly after we had told the Candelas that we were tracking the phone.

Pretty soon we all rolled from the Candela's apartment armed with Nina's address. Sorenson left a couple of his agents with the Candelas and he certainly did not say where we were going. This time I got to ride in the same car as Beckett and Sorenson. I found it a little unusual to see Beckett sitting in the passenger seat and not driving but as this was Agent Chisel Chin's car, well, he got to drive.

There were no screeching of tires or wailing police sirens. Actually there was as we made our way to the destination but as we neared the street the lights and sirens were switched off. No sense in alerting Nina Mendoza that we were on our way.

We pulled up quietly out the front of the apartment building. Joining us was a marked squad car. Beside the building was a small private palyground for the tenants of the apartment building. Beckett's sharp eyes spotted Nina Mendoza sitting on a bench in the playground. Beckett sent Esposito and Ryan around the back to cover any possible escape route. Once the boys were in place, Beckett, Sorenson and I emerged from the Fedmobile.

We walked through the front gate and I came to a halt as Beckett and Sorenson continued to approach the bench where Nina had been sitting on and was now standing. She looked nervous and looked behind her as if she was thinking of making a break for it. The appearance of Esposito and Ryan quickly disabused her of that idea.

Angela Candela rugged up in a beanie and thick coat was playing in a multi coloured jungle gym. Beckett made for the little girl while Sorenson stopped in front of a defeated looking Nina Mendoza.

"Nina Mendoza, you're under arrest for the kidnapping of Angela Candela." Sorenson informed her.

Esposito and Ryan moved in with Esposito cuffing her and Ryan reading her rights.

My gaze turned back to Beckett who was bending beside the little girl. And then I saw another side of Kate Beckett I never thought I would see. The maternal side.

"Hello Angela, I'm so happy to see you." Beckett said gently. "You want to go and see mommy?"

The little girl nodded her head. Beckett lifted the little girl from the jungle gym and held her closely.

"Come on baby. Look at you." She said, smiling. "Hello, hi beautiful...Want to grab your rabbit?"

Angela nodded her head. Beckett reached down and grabbed the stuffed rabbit and held it out for Angela.

"Look at the rabbit." Beckett cooed as the little girl took hold of her favourite toy. Beckett left the playground passing by me. Her focus entirely on the little girl.

Watching Beckett with little Angela Candela I was struck by the thought that some time in the future Beckett would make a wonderful mother.

I saw Sorenson watching Beckett walking back to the car and then his gaze turned towards me. He looked relieved that we had found the little girl. Some of that hardness that was a feature of his face had gone. As I have said before, he was not one of my favourite people but he had done well. There had been a successful outcome to this case which might have gone some way to ease the guilt of not having saved that other child. I gave him a nod, a nod that said well done. He accepted it in his own way.

He started walking, following Beckett and I fell into step beside him.

This time I got to sit in the front passenger seat of Sorenson's Fedmobile. Beckett was in the backseat playing with Angela. Beckett definitely would make a fantastic mother one day.

XXX

It was a leisurely return to the Candela's apartment. Alfred and Theresa were sitting at the dining room table when Beckett walked in carrying Angela in her arms. Sorenson and I followed her. Alfred looked up and his face broke into a big smile.

"Oh my God. Angie!" He shouted as he scrambled to his feet.

Alfred came over and scooped Angela from out of Beckett's arms.

"Mia corazon! Oh God! You look perfect!" He said with emotion as he hugged and kissed his little girl. He looked to Beckett. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, yeah." Beckett assured him.

I stood back a little and watched the happy reunion which would soon change. I saw Alfred turn towards his wife who had remained seated at the table.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Alfred asked. "She's here. She's home!"

Theresa Candela did not respond to her husband. She had the same defeated look on her face that her sister had when we had arrested her. Alfred stared at his wife and then at Beckett and Sorenson. He saw the serious looks on their faces.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked, suddenly looking a little confused.

Sorenson moved a little closer to Theresa. He looked over to FBI Tech lady.

"Crawford, could you take Angela." He said.

So that was FBI Tech lady's name? Crawford? FBI Tech lady nodded her head and moved over to Alfred and took the little girl from him. As she passed Beckett, she handed over the stuffed bunny.

Alfred turned to look at his wife.

"What did you do?" He demanded in a low voice.

Theresa did not respond immediately. She rose from the table and took a couple of steps towards Alfred.

"I worked fourteen hour days year after year, killing myself so that we could have a life." Theresa said. "And what did you do? Oh , you painted. All you did was paint." There was acid dripping from her voice in her last remarks.

"That's not true." Alfred defended himself.

"Really?" Theresa exclaimed. "What about that job said you were going to get so that I could cut my hours?"

"I was taking care of Angela."

"'Taking care'? You left her there, in front of the TV! Everyday!" Theresa shouted, waving at the silent television set. Then she looked from Sorenson to Beckett and then to me. "Do you know how many times I woke up to her screams because he was in that room, blasting the music in his ears?"

I felt uncomfortable having a ringside seat to witness this domestic scene, watching a marriage finally crumble apart. I looked across to Alfred. He certainly would never get my vote for Father of The Year in this life time or the next. Alfred looked more shocked than angry at discovering that his wife was behind the kidnapping of his daughter.

"It doesn't give you the right to kidnap your own child." Beckett informed Theresa.

Theresa turned to face Beckett, lifting her chin.

"How is it kidnapping?" She demanded. "She's my daughter."

"Mrs Candela, you had your sister climb through the window and take her." Beckett accused.

"I gave her permission."

"It doesn't matter." Beckett said firmly. "You violated your husband's custodial rights."

"'Custodial rights'?" Theresa laughed. "He didn't even notice that she was gone! What kind of father does that to his two year old child?"

"Why would you do this?" Alfred questioned. "Why would you put us through that? I mean, for godsake, why didn't you just divorce me?"

Theresa rounded on him, glaring. She told him that she did not want him to sue for alimony, she did not want him to get half of everything. Theresa did not want him to get custody of Angela because she worked all day and Alfred could be there for Angela. She had seen what happened to the guys at work, what had happened to Doug Ellers. There was no way she wanted that happening to her.

"You were paying the ransom to yourself." I said.

"Once Angela returned, I would file the papers." Theresa replied. "There would be nothing left for him to take."

"And if Angela was kidnapped when Alfred was taking care of her..." Beckett surmised.

"The lawyer said that if I could prove him negligent, I would get custody." Theresa confirmed.

She added that she would not have to move out of the apartment that she had paid for so that Alfred could live here with her daughter.

Theresa looked at all of us with tear filled us.

"Do you know how hard it was to adopt her?" She cried. "How much it cost? Ten years!"

She turned to face her husband.

"How many paintings have you sold, Alfred? Huh? How many?"

A look of deep pain settled on Alfred's face as he stared down at his wife.

"How could you hate me so much?" He asked in a quite voice.

"You made it easy."

XXX

It was early evening and most of the bullpen had been cleared for the day. One of the desks that was occupied was Beckett's. She was at her desk finishing up the paperwork of the case. Theresa Candela had been had been sent down to Central booking, as was her sister Nina.

I had just finished a conversation with a uniform and was coming around the corner when I stopped suddenly. I saw Special Agent Chisel Chin walk through the near empty bullpen and come to a stop by Beckett's desk. He sat down in the chair beside her desk.

I did not mean to eavesdrop, really, but I could not help it. The quietude of the bullpen allowed for sound to travel and I will admit it, I was a little curious.

"So, how do you think she'll do?" Sorenson asked.

"Well, it depends on how many mothers are on the jury." Beckett replied.

"So, now that it's over...now that I'm back," Sorenson said a little hesitantly. "I was thinking. Maybe we could give it another shot."

Beckett paused in her paperwork. She set her pen down and looked across to him.

"And when you leave again?"

"You come with me."

Beckett regarded Sorenson for a moment before she looked away. From where I was standing Beckett had her back to me so I could not see her face but I can imagine what it looked like. The slump of her shoulders spoke volumes. The disappointed look on Sorenson's face was also a dead give away.

"Think about it." Sorenson said in a low voice as he got to his feet.

Beckett gave a curt nod of her head.

As Agent Chisel Chin was heading in my direction I made I was just coming this way. We did not stop and exchange any pleasantries but we did exchange a nod to each other. I quickly scurried over and sat down in the chair he had just vacated. I suspected that Beckett was in need of a little cheering up. Luckily for her, it was one of my specialities.

"Nice guy." I remarked. "I can see how it wouldn't work though."

"Really?" Beckett said, looking at me."

"Sure." I insisted.

"Huh."

"Handsome, square-jawed, by the book." I continued.

"And that's a bad thing?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah, he's like the male you." I said, looking at her. "Ying needs Yang, not another Ying. Ying-Ying is...a name for a panda."

"Any more wisdom, Obi-Wan?" Beckett said, a small amused smile dancing on her lips as she started gathering her things.

"Nope. That's it." I declared. "What say we celebrate by going out for a drink?"

Beckett got to her feet and I followed suit.

"I can't. I got a date." She announced.

"A date? You date? Who?" I blurted out.

"That's why it's called 'private life'. Because it's private." Beckett said. "Unlike you, I don't live my life on Page Six."

"Well, you're a mysterious woman, Detective Beckett."

"Maybe there's a little more Nikki Heat in me than you think."

Beckett pushed her chair under her desk. She gave me one of her tight-lipped smiles that rose all the way to her hazel eyes before she turned and walked from the bullpen.

My eyes narrowed as I watched her depart. That intoxicating sway of her hips. I was very curious to know who this mystery man was. At the same time I was very jealous of him, whoever he was. Yet, whoever he was, he was a very lucky man.

XXXXX

_**There you have it the end of another case. Your thoughts or opinions would be greatly appreciated. Send me what you think.**_

_**Con **_


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The Case Of A Death In The Family

Part 1

We all have families, some we love and some we can't stand. Some we can walk away from and others we can never walk away from.

XXX

My day had started with no call from Detective Beckett summoning me to a fresh murder scene. It seemed that New York's murderers were on their best behaviour on this particular day, much to my disappointment. I spent most of the morning working on the last chapter of the Nikki Heat book, editing and doing re-writes. I was feeling very excited about the prospects for this book. Nikki Heat was without doubt the best thing I had written in a very long, long time. I would go so far as to say that this was the best thing I had ever written.

I just hoped that my legions of fans agreed with my assessment and went out bought the book when it came out. I had a feeling they would, judging by the amount of excited chatter in the forums of my website. Still one could not be sure. Some times you can't tell about the tastes of the reading public. All the same, I had my fingers crossed.

Around midday I took a break from my work to greet a visitor. Dr Clark Murray was aged in his mid fifties, of average height, balding, and had more than a passing resemblance to the Emergency Medical Hologram from the Star Trek Voyager series. Luckily he had a sense of humour and was more than happy to autograph a photo of EMH for me a few years back. I still have that autographed photo somewhere.

Dr Murray was the best foresenic pathologist in the business and had become my go to man when it came to getting the forensic details in my books. He was more than happy to help out the first time I had met him and asked for his help. He had been working at the OCME, one of the senior pathologists, when we had first met. Not long after our meeting Doc Murray had left the OCME and gone into teaching. He now teaches the next generation of pathologists, something which he finds very rewarding. Over the years he had tutored me for which I am grateful. Also along the way we had become friends.

I had invited him over a couple of days ago because I had a job for him. On his arrival I fixed us drinks and we spent a few minutes catching up on things. After we had exhausted the pleasantries Doc Murray came out and asked why I had called him. I informed him for the reasons for his visit as I escorted him into my office.

"A stabbing, Rick? Isn't that a little pedestrian for you?" Dr Murray said with some amusement in his voice. "Usually when you call me, it's to ask what happens if you put a head in a microwave?"

"Well this one is a little less made up." I replied, as I motioned the Doc into a chair and I leaned against the front of my desk. I reached for the file that was sitting on my desk. "The victim is the mother of that detective I have been following around."

I glanced down at the file in my hand, once more looking at the photo of Johanna Beckett that was pinned to the front of the file. For the past few days I had been going over the file in the hope I could find some new clue that might have been missed by the original detective that had investigated the case. I had been on working the file off and on ever since Detective Esposito had given it to me. I had taken a look through it when I had some spare time between working cases with Detective Beckett and finishing Nikki Heat. Much to my chagrin I had drawn a blank so far.

The full ME's report was in the file, and I had not been able to get anything out of it. That was when I decided to call in EMH, sorry, Dr Murray.

Doc Murray took the file from me and immediately opened it and began to peruse it.

"The has been cold ten years." I informed him. "I just figured, since you're the best forensic pathologist in the city, maybe you could catch something they missed."

Doc Murray nodded his head as he slowly turned one page after another in the file.

"You know reality isn't fiction, right?" He said, as he paused in his scanning of the file to look up at me. "The odds of finding anyone's killer after ten years..."

"Astronomical." I interjected, nodding my head. "I know. But I'd appreciate it if you took a look."

Doc Murray nodded his head as he resumed looking through the file. I could tell from the look on his face that he was interested. He finally closed the file and looked up at me.

"Well, I'll do what I can." He announced. "Just don't go making promises I can't keep."

"Course not." I assured him. I allowed a smile to appear on my face.

I will admit that I had been a little concerned that Doc Murray might not take up the job. I was relieved when I saw the look of interest on his face when he started going through the file, and more so when he said he would take a look.

I eased myself from the desk as Doc Murray rose from the chair. I showed him out. Along the way I thanked him a few times for taking the job. I opened the front door for him.

"Thanks again." I said.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Doc Murray announced, tapping the file in his hand.

"I appreciate it."

Closing the door I turned around and found Mother at the foot of the stairs, leaning against it. She was giving me one of her looks.

"What was Dr Death doing here?" She inquired.

"Just a little consulting." I replied, trying to be nonchalant.

I started making my way over to the kitchen. Mother followed, she not buying my response.

"Sounded to me like you were looking into Detective Beckett's mother's case."

"Must you eaves drop?" I sighed.

"I wasn't eaves dropping." Mother defended herself. "I happened to walk by your office."

I nodded my head but looking like I did not believe her.

"I live here too, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware." I said tersely.

Mother came around the island to stand on the other side and looked at me.

"So, does she know you're poking into her mother's case?"

"What's the sense of telling her until I find something new?" I said with a shrug.

"Well, you ever stop to think you're invading her privacy?" Mother asked pointedly.

"I'm not poking through her underwear drawer." I replied.

And no, despite what you might think, such thoughts had never entered my head, wondering what kind of underwear she wore, up till that time. I will confess such thoughts did cross my mind in the months to come. But...I digress.

"I'm investigating her mother's murder." I reminded Mother.

Mother nodded her head.

"You are digging up her past, darling, without her permission." Mother said sternly. "Now, either tell her or leave it alone."

They were wise words that Mother imparted. She can surprise me sometimes. I should have listened to her but this was me we're talking about. Once I set my mind on something it was very difficult for anyone to change it. In other words, I did not listen to Mother's wise words.

In my defence I will say that I was determined to give to Beckett the kind of closure that she gave to many of the victims' families. It was the least she deserved. I was only too happy to do what I could, spend what was needed to hopefully find some new lead in the case. No one, least of all Mother, was going to dissuade me from that task.

Also I had already given Doc Murray the file to look over I could not call him back and tell him to forget about it.

Thankfully further discussion on this particular delicate matter had to be put on hold when Alexis came bursting through the front in such an excited state.

"Oh my gosh, Dad! Dad, Dad!" My darling daughter squealed as she came rushing over and hugged me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Dad, he asked me." Alexis gushed. "He asked me!"

"Who asked you?" I asked cautiously, still in the throes of her hug. I cast a look in Mother's direction but she offered no help to explain my daughter's excited disposition.

"Owen!" Alexis replied as she released me and then launched into a breathless monologue. "But I told him I had to ask you, but you'll say yes, right? Because I told him yes, but you have to say yes, so say yes."

"Yes?" I said hesitantly.

"Yes!" Alexis squealed and moved over to hug her grandmother.

"What am I saying yes to?" I asked.

"The junior-senior prom." Alexis informed me.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa. You're not a junior, nor a senior." I said.

"True. But Owen's a junior."

"Owen? I thought you said he was only fifteen?" I told her.

"Yeah." Alexis beamed. "He skipped a grade. But he's so cute, Dad. Please, please, please."

I looked at my very excited daughter and then cast a look in Mother's direction. Mother was looking at me expectantly.

"If I say yes," I said slowly as I looked at Alexis, "will you promise to stay up past your bedtime, have a good time?"

"Yes!" Alexis said a little too enthusiastically for my liking.

"Not...not too good a time." I hasten to add.

"Dad, all we've done is hold hands."

"Eww. Okay. Please, don't need details. Just..."

"So, can I go?" Alexis asked.

"Of course you can." I announced with a smile.

Alexis let out a shriek and hugged me again.

"Oh. I'm going to need a dress." Alexis announced after she released me from the hug.

"Of course." Mother agreed.

Alexis started heading for the stairs.

"A beautiful dress. A dress, a dress." Alexis said. "Thanks, Dad!"

I could not help but smile at the sight of my over excited daughter. Once she had disappeared up the stairs Mother turned to look at me and fixed me with a look.

"So, do you like this Owen?" She asked.

"I don't know." I replied. "I haven't met him."

Mother shook her head at me.

"You are letting her go out with someone that you've never met?" She said incredulously. "What kind of father are you?"

I would have to say that I have been a pretty good father. I prided myself on being the 'Cool Dad'. Mother, of all people should know that. After all she had borne witness to my efforts at raising Alexis pretty much on my own with the occasional titbits of advice from Mother. Yet her questioning of my parental duties had given me cause for some concern. I had already given permission for Alexis to go to the Junior-Senior prom, I could not turn around and bar her from going. What kind of Dad would that make me?

The Universe must have taken pity on me because my phone started ringing. On answering it I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was Detective Beckett's dulcet voice on the other end of the line. She was calling to inform me was she coming to pick me up. She had just landed a case.

On the ride to the murder scene I told Beckett about Alexis being invited to the prom and the fact that I did not know who this kid Owen was. I kind of requested that she do a background check on this kid. This request only brought a roll of her eyes in response. I was not ready to give up and pestered her until we drove into an impound lot.

We got out of her car and head towards a blue Mercedes that was swarming with CSU techs.

"I'm not running a background check on your daughter's date." Beckett said with a degree of exasperation. I'll admit I might have nagged her a little bit too much during the car ride. Still I was not ready to give up.

"Oh, come on. She says he's quiet." I said. "He keeps to himself and he lives with his parents. Tell me that doesn't sound like a serial killer to you."

We approached where Esposito and Ryan were standing near the blue Mercedes.

"Who's a serial killer?" Esposito asked.

"Castle's daughter, Alexis got invited to the prom." Beckett explained.

"It's her first real date." I added.

"And you're worried he's a serial killer?" Ryan chuckled. "You should be more worried he's a teenage boy."

"Oh, he's only fifteen." I said.

"Between satellite TV and the internet, fifteen's the new twenty-five."

This piece of news from Ryan did not make me feel any better. Beckett had moved towards the car to inspect the scene at close quarters not wanting to listen to the guys rag me.

"Dude's right." Esposito added, fixing me with a look. "I was fifteen once."

"Still are." Ryan said with a laugh.

"Thanks, guys." I muttered.

If I had been a little concerned that my little girl was going to the prom, Laurel and Hardy here had me feeling really worried. I even began to contemplate revoking my permission for Alexis going to the prom. I had been fifteen once as well—I know there are one or two of you out there who think I have not reached fifteen yet, that I'm still stuck at age nine—and I knew quite well what fifteen years olds thought about girls at that age.

We approached the car. I noticed the number of parking tickets stuck on the wind shield of the car. Beckett was crouching by the open door of the driver's side and inspecting the body sitting behind the wheel. I stood behind her and leaned in for a better look. Even from where I was standing I could see that the body was in the early stages of decomposition, and certainly it smelled a little ripe.

The Medical Examiner, Dr Lanie Parish was on the other side of the car conducting her examination of the body. She was making notes on her clipboard.

The body was slumped to the side and had a clear plastic bag over the head.

"The car was towed in a few hours ago. Parking violation." Ryan informed us. He sat down in the back seat of the car and resumed his briefing. "When the attendant went to look for the VIN number, he found the vic slumped over with the bag on his head."

"Six parking tickets and a tow sticker, and no one bothered to look inside?" I remarked with some surprise.

"Tinted windows. Sunshade on the wind shield." Esposito informed me.

"You'd think someone would try to look inside." I said.

"Yeah, welcome to New York." Beckett remarked as she continued to inspect the body. "You got an ID?"

"Yeah. Dr Joshua Leeds, 37." Esposito said. "According to the business cards in his wallet..." he paused a moment and pulled out one of the doctor's cards which he passed down to Beckett to take a look at. "...He's a plastic surgeon. Car's also registered to him as well."

"Any money in the wallet?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah, a couple of hundred bucks." Esposito said.

"Well, I guess we can rule out robbery." Beckett stated.

"Plastic bag and duct tape. Not a very efficient way to kill someone." I remarked.

"No. But it's very personal." Beckett replied. She studied the body for a moment before she spoke.

"Alright, find and notify next of kin. Let's see how long he's been missing." She ordered.

Lanie finished making a note on her clipboard and looked across the dead guy.

"From the state of decay, I'd say about a week." she informed us.

"That matches the date of the first parking ticket." Ryan pointed out.

"Preliminary cause of death indicates asphyxiation, but I'll run toxicology just in case." Lanie added.

"That bag is pretty thin." Esposito said. "Why wouldn't he just rip it off?"

"He must have been restrained." Beckett surmised.

"That's only half the story." Lanie said. She lifted up one of the dead guy's hands. The hand and fingers were bent and misshapen. "His fingernails were removed. And each finger presents signs of having been broken pre-mortem."

"Broken?" Beckett questioned.

"If I had to guess, I'd say our doctor was tortured before he was killed."

I must say that piece of information sent a little shiver down my spine. What I was not sure whether it was out of fear or excitement.

XXX

Beckett, Esposito and I were standing in the hallway out the front of the viewing room down at the morgue. We were looking through the window where a young blonde haired woman was standing beside a table where the body of the victim lay covered by a sheet. Dr Lanie Parish was standing on the other side of the table. On a nod from the young woman Lanie lifted the sheet and pulled it back revealing the victim.

The young woman stared down at the face of Dr Lees and I could see her shoulders shake with emotion. Lanie replaced the sheet over the body and turned to look where we were standing and gave a slight nod of her head. We had just gotten a positive ID for the victim. Lanie moved around the table to console the young woman.

"His fiancée, Courtney Morantz." Esposito informed us. "She reported him missing about a week ago."

"CSU have any luck with the car?" Beckett inquired.

"We're running prints, testing fibres. We should have results by tomorrow." Esposito reported.

"Alright, thanks."

Lanie escorted Courtney out into the hallway. Courtney looked devastated on discovering her fiancée was dead. She was making a concerted effort to fight back the tears. She looked up to find the three of us looking at her.

"Ms Morantz. I'm Kate Beckett, the detective working on your fiancee's case." Beckett announced as she held out her hand to the young woman. "I am very sorry for your loss."

Courtney shook Beckett's offered hand and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time?"

We could have conducted the interview down at the morgue in one of the rooms that are provided but Beckett felt it would be a better idea to take Courtney back to the precinct. I could not disagree with her on that. It was a short and relatively quiet ride back to the 12th. I had tried to strike up a conversation with Courtney but for obvious reasons she was not feeling up for it so I gave up on it pretty quickly.

We took Courtney to the interview lounge. She declined the offer of something to drink. Beckett sat down opposite the bereaved fiancee, and I sat down beside Beckett.

"I knew it." Courtney announced with a sigh, still struggling to keep back the tears. "When he didn't come home, I just felt it."

"How long were you engaged?" Beckett asked in a gentle tone of voice.

"Almost a year." Courtney replied. "We were going to get married next month. At the gardens."

She offered up a weak smile to us before she brought up a sodden handkerchief to her nose.

"What did they want? Money?" Courtney asked.

"It doesn't appear to be a robbery." Beckett informed her.

A look of confusion appeared on the young woman. "Then, why?"

"Was Josh involved in anything that might have brought him into contact with criminal elements?" I asked gently.

"No, no, no not my Josh." Courtney said emphatically. "That's not who he was."

"On the day he disappeared, did you notice anything different about him?" I continued.

"Different?" Courtney looked even more confused than before.

"Did he seem worried or scared or distracted?" Beckett added.

Courtney shook her head before she looked at Beckett.

"He was fine." She said. "I mean, we were going to meet because we were going to go taste some cakes." She smiled weakly at that last remark. I offered a comforting, understanding smile in return.

"When he didn't show, I called the office." Courtney continued. "They said he'd left, so I called his cell phone, but he did not pick up."

"If his office was in Midtown, do you have any idea why his car would be found on 133rd Street?" I asked.

Courtney was shocked to be told that Josh's car was found on 133rd Street. She assured us that Josh would never venture that far north. She added that he always took the Midtown tunnel to the L.I.E. And if he was going to be late he would always call and let her know.

The enormity of what had occurred finally became too much for Courtney Morantz. She finally allowed the tears to start flowing. We let her compose herself in her own time and then Beckett asked her a few more questions, like the name and location of the cake shop. I don't think Courtney even had an idea that was considered a suspect in this investigation until her alibi checked out. When the questions were completed I accompanied Beckett as she escorted the bereaved fiancee from the precinct.

XXX

While showing Courtney out of the precinct, Beckett had made a detour over to Esposito's desk to give him some things to follow up. So on our return to the bullpen Beckett and I found the boys putting items up on the murder board.

"Anything on the canvas?" Beckett inquired as we approached the boys.

Ryan turned away from the board to look at Beckett. He had been given to he job of canvassing the area where Joshua Leeds' car had been picked up from.

"Nada." Ryan replied succinctly. "The locals only remember seeing the car after the tickets. No security cameras on the street."

"Fiancées' story checks out." Esposito reported before he was asked. "Cake shop confirms she was there waiting."

"Heading to meet his fiancee at a cake shop in Great Neck. How'd he wind up dead on a street in Harlem?" Ryan mused aloud.

"Well, maybe he had secrets even his fiancee didn't know about." I ventured as a theory began to build in my mind. "Like, maybe he secretly made a living out of using his surgeon's skills to harvest organs off tourists for the black market trade?"

I stopped suddenly and quickly thought over what I had just said. I could not help but break into a smile.

"Whoa! That was a good one." I announced happily. "I'm writing that down."

I turned away from the murder board and pulled out my notebook and started scribbling, a potential plot line for a future novel. As I making a note I caught Beckett and Esposito exchanging a look. Esposito even shook his head. I did not mind their silent mocking because from these specs of gold have best-sellers been written.

"So, instead of making up stories, we are going to establish a time line." Beckett declared. "When did he get his first ticket?"

"Last Wednesday morning." Esposito supplied.

"Okay. So, you guys take the Midtown garage where he kept his car, and we'll hit his office." Beckett ordered.

I quickly finished the note I had been scribbling shoved the notebook away and quickly set off after Beckett who was walking out of the bullpen. There had been something on my mind ever since I had spoken with Mother. The opportunity to raise it with Beckett had not eventuated because of the case. Now as we were heading towards the elevator, I thought it was as good a time as ever to bring it up.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I asked as I caught up with her.

"Since when do you ask permission to ask a question?" Beckett chuckled.

"It's about your mother's case." I said. Beckett stopped walking and slowly turned to face me. "Have you ever thought of reopening it?" I asked.

Beckett's expression darkened as she regarded me.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I said with a shrug of my shoulders, trying to look innocent. "I just thought if we worked together..."

"No." It was firm and it was final.

"I have resources." I countered.

There are times when I just don't know when to take a hint. This was one of them. Beckett was hinting to me in no uncertain terms but fool that I was did not take it.

"Castle, you touch my mother's case, and you and I are done." Beckett warned. "Do you understand?"

Beckett's expression was a mixture of pain and anger. I'm not sure but I suspect there may have been a hint of disappointment in there as well.

"Okay." I said carefully.

We resumed walking toward the elevator. Beckett's attitude had me very curious and when I'm curious I ask questions.

"Why don't you want to investigate it?" I asked.

Beckett stopped and turned to face me again. This time there was less anger and more pain in her face, in her eyes.

"For the same reason a recovering alcoholic doesn't drink." she said she said slowly. She looked away for a moment before turning her eyes to me again. "You don't think I haven't been down there? You don't think I haven't memorised every line in that file? My first three years on the force, every off duty moment was spent looking for something someone missed. It took me a year of therapy to realise, if I didn't let it go, it was going to destroy me. And so I let it go."

Beckett turned and stepped into the elevator which had just arrived. I followed her in and took up station at the back of the car. The take away from this moment was that the subject was still very raw and painful for Beckett and that she did not like discussing it. I had not realised that she had investigated the case herself and the affect that it had on her. I began to have second thoughts at having called in Doc Murray to take a look at Johanna Beckett's file file.

"Sorry." I said in a low and contrite voice. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, well know you know." Beckett said tersely.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts on this latest effort would be most gratefully accepted.**_

_**Con **_


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The Case of A Death In The Family

Part 2

Dr Joshua Leeds' office was located in a building in Midtown Manhattan where a number of medical practices were located. Thankfully the dark cloud that had descended over Beckett and I when we were leaving the precinct had lifted on the ride to Dr Leeds' office. I made a special effort to try and lift the dark mood cracking jokes and fleshing out the idea of a surgeon harvesting tourists' organs for the black market. I am pleased to report that my efforts worked. I got Beckett to laugh a couple of times, and she even offered a couple of suggestions about the story idea. One of which was to drop the idea.

As we approached Dr Leeds' office, a well endowed blonde young woman emerged from the doctor's office. I held the door open to allow her to pass. I'm sure she had a rather nice face but my eyes were drawn to her well enhanced chest. She gave me a cursory glance before she sashayed her way down the hallway. I could not help but stare at her as she walked away.

Beckett had paused in the door way and regarded me. She cleared her throat to attract my attention.

"What is it with men and boobs?" She asked.

"Biological." I said quickly. "We can't help it."

That is so true. At least, it is for me. I could give you chapter and verse about the matter but I wont. This is not time and certainly not the place for such dissertations.

There was an amused look on Beckett's face as she regarded me. "But it doesn't bother you that they're so obviously not real?"

"Santa's not real." I countered. "We still love opening his presents."

Personally I thought it was a great counter argument. Beckett on the other hand rolled her eyes and shook her head. There was also a smirk on her face as if to say: 'Men'. She made her way into the offices of Dr Leeds and I was right beside her.

Dr Leeds' staff, three in all assembled themselves in the reception area behind the waiting room. Thankfully there weren't any patients waiting but I would imagine that since Dr Leeds had vanished they would have notified the patients about the cancellation of appointments.

Julia Hammond was the senior nurse, a woman with short blonde hair. She was aged in her mid forties. She was sitting down across from where Beckett and I were standing. Beside Julia was Maggie Dowd, a woman aged in her mid to late twenties with black hair. Beside her was a male nurse Mario Guerrera, aged somewhere around his late twenties I would hazard at a guess. All three of them were still in a state of shock on having learned that their employer had been found murdered.

"It wasn't like him to disappear." Nurse Julia informed us. "I think deep down, we all knew that, something was wrong."

Her colleagues nodded their heads in agreement.

"Did he seem agitated at all?" Beckett asked. She had whipped out her small note book and was making notes.

"No. I mean it was pretty much business as usual." Nurse Julia replied.

"Except for the wedding." Nurse Mario announced. "We were trying to clear his schedule for the honeymoon."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Last Tuesday. He was on his way to meet his fiancee." Julia said.

"What time did he leave the office?" I asked.

Julia was thoughtful for a moment and looked to the others.

"Around 5:30." Nurse Mario supplied.

"Yeah." Julia nodded her head in agreement.

"When I called at six, he was fine." Nurse Maggie said. "He was in traffic at the tunnel."

Beckett made a note in her pad before she turned to look at me.

"He'd left Manhattan then." She said.

"Why would he come back?" I questioned.

Beckett turned to look at the three nurses.

"Did Dr Leeds have any enemies? Anyone that he had operated on who had complications or a bad experience?" Beckett asked them.

"None of his patients had complications." Julia asserted.

"That doesn't mean that they were always happy." Nurse Mario informed us. "Cosmetic surgery is about self image. For some people, it changes their lives. For others, nothing's ever enough."

Nurse Mario punctuated those remarks with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Did any of his patients ever threaten him?" Beckett asked.

"One." Julia announced. She paused before revealing the name. "Jacey Goldberg. She was a patient of Dr Leeds until about three months ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"She wanted a face lift." Julia replied.

"So?" Beckett said, after noting down the name of the patient.

"So, she already had three." Nurse Mario informed her. "Dr Leeds refused to perform the operation."

Julia rose from her chair and went over to the filing cabinets.

"So what did she do?" I inquired.

"She sued him." Julia said, as she opened a drawer on the filing cabinet and searched through the files. Finding the file she was looking for she pulled it out. She turned and approached Beckett holding out the file to her.

"It was thrown out of court, of course." Julia added.

"That's when the threats started." Nurse Maggie announced.

Beckett slowly opened the file and took a look. Her eyebrows shot up like skyrockets as the colour drained from her face. A little concerned I leaned in to take a look at what had shocked her. My jaw dropped at the horrific sight that my eyes beheld. For a moment I thought the photo had been touched up using one of those photo editing applications that distorts peoples' faces in an amusing way. Sad to say, this photograph had not been touched up in any way at all. I could not help but let out a squeak of shock.

Beckett dragged her eyes from the photo to look at me. We both wore horrified expressions. It took us a few minutes to recover from the sight of that photograph in the file. It was a sight that could cause nightmares, let me tell you. I looked over to where the three nurses were standing and they all had understanding looks on their faces.

Beckett obtained a few details about Jacey Goldberg as well as one of the photographs from the file before we thanked the nurses for their time and headed back to the precinct. Just before jumping into the car, Beckett called Esposito and ordered him to dig up information on Jacey Goldberg.

On returning to the precinct Beckett updated the murder board with the information we had obtained from Dr Leeds' employees. I was doing my normal role of supervising Beckett. Prominent under the title 'suspect' was the hideous headshot photo of Jacey Goldberg.

Captain Montgomery was heading out for the day but stopped by the murder board. Beckett gave him an update on the investigation so far. He looked at the photo and visibly shuddered at the sight. I know how he felt. I had been trying to scrub the image from my mind without much success.

"At the very least, she should be arrested for the violating the laws of nature." Captain Montgomery remarked, once again shuddering.

Esposito and Ryan walked up to join us.

"Check this out." Esposito announced in way of greeting. "Jacey Goldberg's husband, Jack, had her committed to Bellevue a month ago for psychiatric treatment for her little obsession." Esposito made a circle around his face.

"Guess who testified in support of her commitment?" Ryan added.

Beckett brightened. "Dr Joshua Leeds." She said.

"Mm-mmm" Esposito murmured.

"Mandatory one month treatment program." Ryan informed us. "She was released last week."

"Three days before our doctor went missing." Esposito said.

"Mentally unstable surgery chick." I mused allowed. A smile blossomed across my face as a thought occurred to me. "This is way better than harvesting organs." I said a little excitedly.

Beckett shot me a look but did not respond to my musings.

"Get here in here." Captain Montgomery ordered before he departed.

As it was late in the day Beckett decided to bring Ms Goldberg in the following morning. She gave that task to Esposito and Ryan. Beckett returned to her desk and started catching up on some paperwork that had been awaiting her attention. That was my cue to take my leave. I bid everyone a good night as I left the bullpen.

XXX

It was mid morning the following day and Esposito, Ryan, Beckett and I were standing in the observation room staring at Jacey Goldberg who was seated at the table in the interrogation room. She was seated beside her lawyer.

For some minutes there was stunned silence in the observation room. You could hear a pin drop as we all gazed at our suspect. If the photo was hideous then the real thing was ten times worse. Jacey Goldberg has so much work done on her face there was little or nothing left of the original face. There were cheek implants and a chin implant and there was so much botox that there was little facial movement. And those trout lips. Her breasts as well had received considerable augmentation that they now look like...how can I say this delicately? They looked like a pair of air bags that had deployed. By looking at her you could not even begin to guess how old she was.

As we watched, Jacey pulled out of her purse a round mirror and started to apply another coat of lipstick on those trout lips of hers.

"Look at her." Esposito said, breaking the silence. "How can anyone do that to themselves?"

"Right." I replied. "It's like she escaped from _The Island of Doctor Moreau."_

"Come on, guys." Beckett said as she turned for the door. "She's not animal. She's a human being."

"Yeah I know, but..." I turned my head to look at her. "Wait. Are you being sincere, or quoting _The Elephant Man?_"

There was a mischievous glint in Beckett's eyes as she shot me a look before heading out of the observation room. The guys started sniggering.

"Oh, saucy." I smiled as I followed her out.

Beckett opened the door to the interrogation room and strode in. I was right behind her, closing the door behind me before I took the chair beside Beckett. Jacey was still applying lispstick but when we entered she put away the mirror and lipstick back in her purse.

"Mrs Goldberg, I'm Detective Beckett." Beckett announced, then motioned in my direction. "This is Richard Castle, a consultant with the department."

"What's this about, Detective?" The lawyer asked.

Beckett ignored the lawyer's question as she opened up her portfolio she had in front of her. I was finding it extremely hard not to stare at Jacey. She reminded me of a parody of Jessica Rabbit with none of the sexiness of the cartoon character.

"Mrs Goldberg, are you familiar with a plastic surgeon named Dr Joshua Leeds?" Beckett said.

"Yes."

"You recently sued him for malpractice?"

"That's correct." Jacey nodded.

Beckett consulted the file in front of her.

"For refusing to perform elective surgery; specifically, a face lift, facial implants, and liposuction."

"I can assure you, each procedure was medically necessary." Jacey insisted.

"Dr Leeds didn't seem to think so." I pointed out to her.

"That arrogant bastard thought he could play God." Jacey shot back.

"Well, if you wanted the surgery so badly," I said slowly, "why didn't you just see another lips. Doc..doctor?"

There was an awkward pause following my Freudian slip. I swear it just came out. I did not mean to say it but it just tripped off my tongue. Admittedly I was staring at her lips at the time. It could have happened to anybody.

"Because I wanted the best." Jacey said. She turned to her lawyer. "Who is he to deny me the best?"

"So, you threatened to ruin him?" I questioned, having recovered from my little faux pas.

"Why does he get to tell me what I can and cannot do" Jacey scoffed. "Why does he get to decide what I look like?"

"Is that why you killed him?" Beckett said.

"What?" Jacey blinked.

"Dr Leeds was murdered last week." I informed her.

"Murdered?"

Jacey blinked rapidly. It was the only way she could express facially, her surprise at the information we had just told her. The rest of her face was filled with so much botox that it was impossible for even the barest of twitches.

"Yes, a couple of days after you were released from the psychiatric treatment facility that Dr Leeds helped commit you to." Beckett said. She looked across to Jacey's lawyer. "That's motive and opportunity, Counsellor."

Jacey sat back in her chair blinking several times. She looked at Beckett.

"I said I'd ruin him, not kill him. Big difference." Jacey said.

"Then I suppose you won't mind telling me where you were last Tuesday night?" Beckett told her.

Jacey regarded Beckett for a moment before she turned to look at her lawyer. The lawyer shrugged his shoulders as if to say to her that it was okay to tell Beckett. Jacey then turned back to Beckett. She informed us that she was in hospital last Tuesday night. On being pressed by Beckett what she was doing in hospital Jacey said having surgery. What kind of surgery was Beckett's follow up question. It was then when Jacey revealed what surgery she had. How can I say this delicately? Yes, umm...labial augmentation surgery.

Beckett and I shared a look at that piece of news. I don't know who was more surprised, me or her. I think it was a dead heat. After the initial surprise wore off me I had a whole raft of jokes and remarks and puns that were just begging to be voiced. I had to purse my lips very tightly to stop myself from speaking. I think Beckett was a little grateful for my restraint.

Thankfully for me at least I was spared further gory details, so to speak by the chirping of my phone announcing the arrival of a text message. It was from Mother reminding me that I had an important meeting I had to get to. I whispered my apologies to Beckett who did not look too pleased at my sudden abandonment of her. I told her where I had to be and why, and that seemed to assuage her. I could not get out of the interrogation room fast enough, leaving Beckett to wrap the interview by getting details from Jacey.

For what happened after Beckett had left the interrogation room, I have to thank my beautiful and ever extraordinary muse and partner in life. She was not going to tell me when I got back to the precinct later on in punishment for having abandoned her but after some begging from me, she relented.

She was making additional notes on the murder board when Captain Montgomery stopped by for a briefing on her interview with Jacey Goldberg.

"So, where was she?" He asked.

Beckett finished writing on the murder board and turned to look at the Captain.

"She was...in hospital." Beckett replied hesitantly.

"Getting more surgery?"

"Yep." Beckett nodded.

Captain Montgomery frowned in confusion.

"What's she got left to operate on?" He asked.

Beckett looked a little embarrassed. She cleared her throat and then cast her eyes quickly downwards towards the floor before looking up again. Hoping that the Captain caught the meaning.

"Oh no." It seems Captain Montgomery understood.

"Oh yes."

"Seriously?" Montgomery said surprised. "What could they possibly do down there?"

"Well, apparently, quite a lot."

Captain Montgomery shuddered at the thought.

Beckett did not provide any details to the Captain about what kind of work they can do 'down there' nor did she tell me when I begged her to later on. I had to resort to turning to the internet to find out what can be done 'down there'. I will spare you the gory details.

"Well if Leeds had a reputation of turning people away, maybe there's someone else that he pissed off?" Montgomery suggested, having recovered from the shudder.

Beckett informed the Captain that she had Esposito and Ryan going through Dr Leeds' patient files to see if they could find something. She also said that CSU had found nothing after going over the doctor's car.

"It would be almost impossible for a run of the mill revenge murderer to be that invisible." Beckett added.

"You thinking it was professional?" Captain Montgomery asked.

"I don't know. Mrs Goldberg had enough money to pay someone to do it." Beckett said. "And her surgery is a pretty convenient alibi."

She frowned and then shrugged her shoulders.

"But torture and suffocation? That doesn't seem like the work of a disgruntled trophy wife turning fifty." She added.

"A surgeon with broken fingers?" Captain Montgomery said pointedly. "That's someone sending a message."

XXX

The important meeting that required my presence was located at a Downtown boutique. I was seated in a chair surrounded by dresses hanging on clothes racks. I managed to get there at the appointed time which surprised both Mother and Alexis.

Alexis pulled aside the curtain and stepped out of the dressing room. She approached me hesitantly, feeling a little awkward. A big smile appeared on my face as I looked at her. She had changed into a cerise prom dress.

"What do you think?" She asked me.

"You look beautiful." I replied.

My darling daughter let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Dad, you say that about every dress." Alexis said.

I must admit I had said it for each dress that she had tried. I could not help it. She did look beautiful.

"Don't you think this makes my skin look pasty?" She asked.

I leaned forward in my chair as I looked at her.

"Sweetheart, I want you to know." I said. "No matter how you think you look, you are perfect exactly the way you are."

I was offering her some positive reinforcement. For my efforts I got an exasperated roll of the eyes.

"You're not helping." Alexis muttered.

Mother chose that moment from her dress hunting to return. She carried with her a dress that she had found.

"Oh, God no. Hideous." She declared, having taken a look at what Alexis was wearing.

"Thank you!" Alexis said with some relief.

"Here, try this." Mother said handing over the dress that she had found. "Alright. It's a good colour for you."

Alexis took the offered dress and quickly vanished into the dressing room to try on the dress that Mother had found for her.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"What?"

"'You look hideous'? Are you trying to give her body-image issues?" I could not help but shoot a glare in Mother's direction.

"Oh, news flash." Mother volleyed back. "She already has body-image issues."

Mother went on to explain that it was an intrinsic part of being a women to have such issues. Every woman in the world has some part of herself that she absolutely hates. Her hands are too small, her feet are too big, her hair's too straight, too curly. Her ears stick out. Mother paused and checked out her ass in the mirror before resumed speaking. Her butt's too flat, her nose is too big. And nothing we men can say will change how they feel.

What men don't understand, Mother added, is that the right clothes, the right shoes, the right makeup, hides the flaws that women think they have. Those things make them look beautiful to themselves and that is what makes them beautiful to others.

I honestly had never thought of it that way. Mother's sage words had given me a little insight into the female psyche. It gave me pause for thought. A wistful smile came to my face as I looked at her.

"Used to be, all she needed to feel beautiful was pink tutu and a plastic tiara." I said, thinking back to those days not all that long ago when Alexis was a little girl.

Mother smiled back. "We spend our whole lives trying to feel that way again."

The curtain of the dressing room was once again pulled aside and my darling daughter once more emerged. The sight of her took my breath away. I don't think I had seen a more beautiful sight. The teal dress she was wearing was perfect.

"What do you think?" Alexis asked nervously as she looked from Mother then to me.

I smiled at her. "I think It's you."

XXX

While I was preparing my credit card for the shock of the battering it was going to get. It was not just a prom dress that Alexis was getting, there were the accessories to go with it. Detectives Esposito and Ryan were at Dr Leeds' office going through his files trying to find something. I have both the guys to thank for what comes next in this story.

When the search of the files turned up nothing Esposito and Ryan turned their attention to Dr Leeds' personal office and started searching it. What they found at first was that it appeared Dr Leeds was a boy scout, he volunteered for Doctors' International, did pro bono work. Esposito even remarked that the good doctor did not even have any porn on his office computer. Something which Ryan found a little odd.

Esposito search of the doctor's desk was delayed for a few moments by a locked drawer. It took him only a moment or two to unlock the drawer. On opening it Esposito found a cheque book and some files. He wondered aloud who locked up their cheque book. He took a look in the first file and found it was about the wedding.

Ryan picked up the discarded folders and perused them. That was when he found something that had nothing to do with the wedding preparations. It was a medical file. What was odd about this file was that the patient information had been blacked out.

"Maybe Dr Leeds had a secret after all." Ryan remarked.

The boys took the newly discovered file over to Nurse Julia to see if she knew anything about it.

Nurse Julia confirmed that the writing was Dr Leeds' but she claimed to have never seen the file before. As she looked through the file, the only thing she could glean was that the patient had been a male aged 55. There was no indication what kind of procedure had been done on the patient. What she could not understand as she told the boys was that she Dr Leeds' primary nurse. He never conducted an operation without her.

Nurse Julia had Nurse Mario to check the doctor's diary for the March 18th, the date when the operation had been conducted. Nurse Mario reported, after checking the diary, that Dr Leeds had been at Mercy Hospital attending a panel on reconstructive surgery. Nurse Julia looked confused and wondered aloud why Dr Leeds lie and why he had operated without her.

XXX

With my presence no longer required, I left Alexis and Mother to continue their shopping expedition and returned the precinct. On my return I found Beckett standing by the murder board. With her was Captain Montgomery and Esposito. Esposito was briefing on the outcome of the visit to Dr Leeds' office. I took my usual seat and listened in on the briefing.

"According to the hospital, the procedure lasted nine hours." Esposito as he pinned a copy of the medical records on the murder board. He stepped back and resumed talking. "Neither the assisting nor the anaesthesiologist were with the hospital. Both were brought in by Dr Leeds, neither of his regulars."

"A nine hour mystery operation he didn't want his own people to know about?" Captain Montgomery questioned with a frown on his face.

"The hospital must've had some record of the patient." Beckett said.

At that moment Ryan came up to our group. He had a frown on his face.

"Get this. The hospital can't find the file. It's like it never happened." He said.

"Who did you talk to?" I inquired.

"Patient information."

"Well that's your first mistake." I intoned.

Everyone turned their attention to me. I saw confused looks on their faces.

"You want to find someone at a hospital who had treatment there, there is only one department to go to where nothing ever falls through the crack."

Beckett raised a questioning eyebrow at me. I did not keep them in suspense.

"Billing." I informed them. "Someone had to pay for it, right?"

I got a brief smile from Beckett following my little assist to the investigation. She headed for the telephone on her desk to speak to the billing department of the hospital. I rose from my chair and headed for the break room. This called for a celebratory cappuccino, I thought to myself.

A few minutes later I returned to the break room with two cappuccinos as I approached Beckett she was finishing up her call to the hospital. She thanked the person on the other end of the line and then turned to look at me. There was a pleased look on her face I noted. I handed over her cappuccino which she accepted with a grateful nod of the head.

"Well, it looks our mystery patient's hospital bill was paid promptly and in full." She announced.

"By whom?" I asked.

"Wire transfer."

Beckett turned and called Esposito over to her. The detective came over.

"See what you can find on this account number." Beckett passed to Esposito a post it note where she had scribbled the account number she had gotten from the hospital.

Esposito nodded his head turned and headed to his desk to get the information that Beckett wanted.

Beckett propped herself against her desk and took a sip of her coffee. She looked up at me.

"So, did Alexis find a dress?" She asked.

"Yeah, a cute one too." I said a little wistfully. "Boy, I can't believe my little girl is going to the prom."

I took a sip of my coffee and allowed a smile to reach my lips.

"My only comfort now is the long standing tradition of torturing the boyfriend."

"What do you mean?" Beckett asked.

"You know, the time honoured hazing that goes on in those few moments we share, where he and I are alone, just before my daughter descends the stairs."

On the cab ride back to the precinct I had started to think up of things that I could do to haze, Alexis' date.

"I remember the terror of meeting my date's old man." Ryan chipped in.

Both Beckett and I turned to look at Ryan.

"What did he do?" I asked.

"Checked my wallet for condoms, showed me his gun collection." Ryan said. The look on his face told me that Ryan still might have nightmares about that meeting. Ryan looked up at us.

"My hands were shaking so bad, I could barely put on the corsage."

I smiled in sympathy before I turned to Beckett.

"What did your father do?" I asked her.

"I...I...don't know." Beckett stammered, her face creasing in a frown. "I was in my room."

"How was your date when you finally came out?" I asked.

Beckett was thoughtful as she considered the question.

"You know, actually, now that you mention it, he looked terrified." Beckett recounted.

Ryan and I exchanged knowing looks.

"And this whole time, I thought he was scared of me."

"Nope." I said with a smile. "And now it's my turn."

"What are you planning?" Ryan asked eagerly.

"Something befitting the name, Castle." I informed him, lifting up my chin.

Beckett gave me one of her eye rolls.

Esposito had finished his checking into the account number that Beckett had given him. He rose from his desk and came walking over to us.

"You're not going to believe this." He announced.

"What did you find?" Beckett demanded.

"The account the money was wired from? It belongs to the US Attorney's Office." Esposito said. "Whatever the procedure was, Uncle Sam paid for it."

"I guess we can rule out boob job." I remarked.

The joke was met with suppressed grins from the boys and an eye roll from Beckett.

"Why would the DOJ pay for cosmetic procedure?" Ryan questioned.

"There's only one reason." Beckett declared. "To change someone's identity."

"So you think they guy was in Witness Protection?" Esposito asked.

"If Dr Leeds was tortured, I think our killer's trying to find this guy." I pointed out.

Beckett glanced at me. "Then we better find him first."

"How do you find someone who is in Witness Protection?" I asked her.

"We ask the people who are protecting him."

Both Ryan and Esposito sucked in their breath noisily as they recoiled at Beckett's statement.

"Ask Hard Candy? Good luck." Ryan muttered with a shake of his head.

"Hard...hard Candy?" I stammered, looking from Ryan to Esposito.

Esposito looked at me grimly.

"Assistant United States Attorney Candace Robinson." He explained. "She makes mobsters cry."

XXXXX

_**What did you think of this chapter?**_

_**Con **_


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The Case of A Death In The Family

Part 3

There steady drumbeat of high heels on a tiled floor echoed loudly off the neo classical corridor of the Federal court house as Beckett and I followed Assistant United States Attorney Candace 'Hard Candy' Robinson. Beckett was keeping up with her and I was a length behind Beckett.

We had caught Hard Candy coming out of a court room and she was running late for a meeting so the only time she could give us was while walking with her. Beckett wasted little time getting to the point. Hard Candy did likewise by shooting down Beckett's request.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but you must know that information on a protected witness is confidential." Hard Candy stated, barely looking over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor.

Candace Robinson was a woman in her mid thirties with long dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in a navy blue business suit that looked had been bought from one of the more upmarket stores. The navy blouse she wore under the jacket was definitely bought from some boutique. The ensemble was topped with black four inch heels. She wore minimal make up. Her face had a severe expression on it that reminded me of some teachers I used to have. I could well believe she could make mobsters cry. She looked like the type to do it.

"Whether or not you have proof that we employed Dr Leeds, or whether or not you have proof that an operation took place, is irrelevant." Hard Candy added.

"Not to my victim, it's not." Beckett said vehemently. "Not to his family, and certainly not to his fiancée. They were planning a life together that they will not have."

Hard Candy reached the top of the stairs and paused to look at Beckett.

"Look, I am not unsympathetic to your situation, but we all have our jobs to do." Hard Candy said before starting down the stairs.

Beckett followed her and I followed Beckett. I could see that Beckett had that look on her face that said she was not ready to give up on what I thought was a futile exercise.

"Ms Robinson, doesn't it matter to you that the man you employed was killed, and whoever murdered him might be looking for your witness?"

Hard Candy reached the bottom of he stairs and let out a sigh. There was a brief troubled look on her face as she regarded the determined Detective that had been dogging her heels. It did not last long and the severe expression returned.

"Detective, you are asking me to expose a witness during an ongoing Federal Investigation, and I'm telling you that is not going to happen."

Hardy Candy ended our meeting there at the bottom of the stairs. She gave Beckett a nod of goodbye turned on her heels and marched off. Beckett stood there fuming in frustration. She let out a sigh and then started walking through the lobby in the direction of the exits. I had to trot to catch up with her but wisely remained quiet for a few moments.

Once outside we started walking down the street heading for the place where we had parked the car. I quickly and silently counted to ten before I decided to speak.

"So, what now?" I ventured.

"The witness is the key." Beckett replied. "Without knowing who he is or who's after him, there's no way of getting to the next step."

"There's another way we can figure out who that witness is." I said.

The idea had occurred to me the moment Hard Candy had thrown up the wall and stonewalled us. No matter what Beckett said to Hard Candy there was no way the Assistant United States Attorney Candace Robinson was going to divulge the name of the person they were protecting

Beckett cast a glance in my direction.

"Yeah, how?"

"Candace Robinson's office deals almost exclusively with organised crime." I said.

"So?"

"So, what if we ask the other side?" I suggested.

"You want to ask the mob who the witness is?" There was a look of disbelief on her face.

"Clearly, they already know who he is, if they're trying to kill him." I replied. "Like you said, he's got to be significant witness in a pretty big case."

Actually there was another way but I did not like I very much because it would be too time consuming. It involved going through the newspapers looking for any story about significant mob trials coming up in the not too distant future. A search like that could take for ever and still not come up with what we were looking for. Added to that I would probably get lumbered with the majority of the work, so that was another mark against suggesting that idea, so I did not voice it.

"So, what do we do?" Beckett said sarcastically. "Hop in the car and drive down to the Bada Bing?"

I almost broke into a smile on discovering that she watched a show like _The Sopranos_. It merely confirmed what I already knew, Beckett had good tastes in most things.

"I know a guy. He owes me a favour." I informed her.

Beckett stopped walking and put her hands on her hips as she looked at me.

"You 'know a guy'?" She said. "What is this? A Mamet play?"

"From the early days of Derrick Storm." I explained. "He's a capo with one of the families. He's actually pretty nice."

"For a criminal." Beckett shot back, rolling her eyes.

"I'm just saying, maybe he knows something." I pressed. "Maybe he can tell us something the Feds wont."

Beckett shook her head as we resumed walking. This time I did break into a smile.

"I keep forgetting you read plays!" I said excitedly.

Like I said before I already knew that she had good taste in most things. Take reading material for instance. I already knew that she was a big fan of my work.

We had not gone more than a few yards before Beckett tried to shoot down my suggestion. The idea of venturing into the dark side did not sit well with her. I was ready with counter arguments and by the time we reached the car she gave me a very reluctant go ahead to speak to my guy. I could not be all that sure but I think I detected in her some concern for me about speaking to a mobster. The winning point was that we did not have any other alternative in getting the name of the protected witness.

XXX

The bar was located in a little out of the way place in Little Italy. It took me a couple of moments for my eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the dark interior of this bar. It was dark with little natural light coming through through a couple of the small stain glass windows, almost as if it was afraid to venture into the establishment, and if one really knew about some of the things that had happened here or were inspired here you would understand. It was the kind of joint that few people came to without a specific invitation. Those that did quickly departed, thanking their lucky stars they had escaped relatively unscathed.

A couple of bar flies were perched on stools at the far end of the counter their eyes glued to the TV set on the wall which was showing a baseball game without the sound on. There was a radio somewhere playing what sounded like Mario Lanza or some such thing.

The barman, a thick set man who looked like he had come straight from Central Casting gave me a baleful look as he watched me as I looked around. Sitting at the counter was a tall heavy set man who was staring down at his half finished drink.

My eyes were drawn to the back corner booth. Sitting there was the guy I had come to see. My guy. His name was Sal Tenor, aged in his mid fifties with a balding pate and a rotund girth. He was dressed in a track suit. If the barman had come from Central Casting, then Sal could have stepped off the set of _The Sopranos_, come to think of it I think he might have. I think I saw him as an extra in a couple of episodes.

I let out a silent sigh of relief at seeing Sal. He was sitting in the booth doing what looked like paperwork, which as the owner of this establishment was unavoidable even for a mob guy. I started making my way towards him. I had not taken more than a couple of steps before I was suddenly grabbed roughly, had my arm twisted behind my back and my face was saying hello to a table. It was the heavy who had been sitting at the counter. He had moved like a ninja.

"Whoa, whoa. I'm a friend." I said quickly.

"Sal?" The heavy said.

Sal paused in his work and lifted his head and took a look at me. There was a blank expression on his face.

"Take him out back. Kill him." Sal said.

The heavy lifted me up from the table and pointed me in the direction of the back door. I could not believe what was happening. It was moment's like this when I seriously reconsider the brilliance of some of my ideas. I also was regretting not having Beckett by my side. I don't think the heavy would have tried anything with her around.

"Sal! Whoa! Sal! It's me buddy." I said hurriedly and desperately.

"Vito! Vito! Wait, hold on." Sal called out. "I was just messing with him."

Vito the Heavy released me and stepped back. The least he could have done was apologise but Vito was not much of a talker from the looks of things. Sal started laughing.

"Come here." Sal said, still laughing.

"Not funny, Sal" I grumbled as I straightened my clothes and approached Sal.

Sal rose from the booth.

"No, you're right." Sal replied, still smiling. "No. It was frigging hilarious."

Sal laughed again. He reached out and placed his big paws on my the sides of my head pulling me to him where he placed a big sloppy kiss on my forehead.

"Richard friggin Castle. Master of the Macabre." Sal said. "What brings you down from your cloud of money?"

I started telling Sal about the case Beckett and I were working on. Sal held up a hand to stop me. He looked over to the bar and ordered two drinks. He then motioned me to sit. He resumed the spot he had been sitting in. The drinks arrived pretty quickly and I thanked the waitress who had brought the drinks over.

Sal took a sip of his drink before he spoke. He told me that the guy I was talking about had worked for the Spolano family. The guy's name was Jimmy "The Rat" Moran. Sal informed me that Jimmy The Rat had been an under boss in that family. He had been a favourite of the of the Godfather but squeezed out by Junior when the Old Man bit it.

Sal went on to say that rumour had it Jimmy The Rat had turned State's a few months back and the Spolano family was running scared. It was believed that Jimmy has it all, bills of lading, calendars. Ledgers, the whole shooting match. Apparently Jimmy has enough evidence to bring down all the top guys.

"Well, no wonder he wanted to change his face." I remarked.

"Hey, if they got the surgeon, it's only a matter of time before they get to him." Sal replied.

I nodded my head. "When I wrote_ Storm Warning..._"

"Oh, I love that book." Sal interjected.

"Thanks." I replied. "You told me that certain mob hit men have signature styles or weapons."

"That's right."

"Okay." I nodded. "Well, this killer used a plastic bag with duct tape to suffocate his victim. Does that sound like anyone you know?"

Sal was thoughtful for a couple of moments as he considered my question then he shook his head.

"No. You would have to ask the Spolanos about that." He added as he reached for his drink.

"Yeah I don't think they'd like that." I said.

"Probably not." Sal agreed. "I bet you I know somebody else who might know."

"Who?"

"Jimmy The Rat."

I thanked Sal for the information and I stayed long enough to finish my drink. Sal gave me some hazing about killing off Derrick Storm, something which I had gotten used to over the past couple of months ever since the last Storm book had come out. To appease Sal I told him a little bit about the new book I was writing, about the beautiful, tough and savy Homicide detective. That seemed to make Sal happy and he said he looked forward to reading the book when it came out. I made a mental note to send him an autographed copy of the new book when it came out. Before I left I signed a copy of my latest book which Sal just happened to have laying around under the counter. I was only too happy to sign the book for him.

XXX

On leaving Sal's bar I almost did a little jig at having been able to obtain the name of the witness the Feds were protecting. I managed to suppress the urge to do the jig as I walked down the street. What I did do was call Beckett to pass on to her the information I had managed to obtain by venturing into the dark side.

Beckett sounded both surprised and pleased with what I passed on. I even got a 'well done' out of her before she told me to get back to the precinct. I could not find a cab fast enough.

On entering the bullpen I found the guys and Beckett hovering around Esposito's computer. I quickly took the chair next to Beckett. On the screen Esposito was scrolling through some surveillance photos of Jimmy Moran.

"Jimmy 'The Rat' Moran aka Jimmy Pretty." Esposito said as he brought up another photo of Jimmy. "Been linked to gambling, loan sharking and extortion schemes."

"You know, you want a guy to be loyal, you probably shouldn't call him 'the Rat'." Ryan remarked. He was standing behind Esposito's seat, looking over his partner's shoulder.

Ryan and I exchanged knowing grins. I have to admit I kind of agreed with Ryan's remarks. As nicknames go, this one was not one of the best. It definitely showed a lack of imagination on the part of who ever bestowed the name on Jimmy. Come to think of it, it also showed some prescience as well.

"Okay, so let's start off by digging up all known associates of the Spolano family." Beckett ordered.

"Yeah, sure." Ryan sighed. "And while we're at it, we'll just bang our heads against a brick wall. You know, just for fun."

Beckett turned to look at Ryan. I shot a questioning looking in Esposito's direction and then motioned with my head at Ryan, seeking an explanation for that last remark of his.

"Professional hits are the hardest to close." Esposito helpfully explained. "Because of the anonymous nature of the murders. The usual rules, like motive and relationship to the victim, don't apply.

I nodded my head in understanding. Beckett turned back to look at the picture of Jimmy The Rat displayed on the computer.

"We need to talk to Moran." Beckett announced. "Got to see what he knows."

With Beckett rose from her seat and started walking away. I rose and followed her.

"What makes you think your friend Hard Candy is going to co-operate now?" I asked as I caught up with her.

We were heading for the elevator. Beckett cast a glance in my direction.

"You have your sources, I have mine." She said, with a small smile on her face.

It took me only a couple of steps for me to figure out who Beckett's source was. It was Special Agent Chisel Chin.

"It's not your ex-boyfriend, is it? Mr FBI? Tall, brooding and judgemental?" I asked.

"Why, yes, in fact it is." Beckett confirmed casting a glance in my direction. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not for me." I said with a shrug. "But then again, I'm not trying to get back together with."

Needless to say I did not accompany Beckett on her visit to Agent Chisel Chin. I don't think my presence would have been welcomed by said Agent. So when we reached the lobby I took my leave of the fair Detective Beckett and headed for home.

XXX

For the next part of this story I have to thank my my beautiful and ever extraordinary muse and partner in life, who generously recounted her meeting with Special Agent Chisel Chin, sorry, I mean Special Agent Will Sorenson.

Beckett was perched against the side of her Crown Victoria holding a paper bag. Agent Will Sorenson emerged from the front entrance of the building and broke into a smile as he approached her.

"Well, this is a nice surprise." Sorenson said.

"Yeah, hopefully this is a nice surprise as well." Beckett said with a smile as she handed over the paper bag.

Sorenson took the bag and opened it. A look of surprise appeared on his face as he dug his hand into the bag and pulled out a doughnut covered in sprinkles.

"Sprinkles." Sorenson laughed. "Am I really that predictable?"

"Well, maybe I just know you too well." Beckett said with a smile. "I mean, we did date once."

"Yeah."

Sorenson broke the doughnut in two pieces and offered a half to Beckett.

"Oh, no thanks, I don't eat sprinkles anymore." She informed him.

Sorenson nodded his head and took a bite from one of the doughnut halves. He moved to leaned against the car beside her.

"Is this the part where you ask me to bend the rules to help you on your case?" Sorenson said as he chewed on the doughnut.

Beckett turned to look at Sorenson. "Am I really that predictable."

"Maybe I just know you too well" Sorenson shrugged. He took another bite of the doughnut. "What do you need?

"I want to talk to Jimmy Moran."

"Jimmy Moran, the mobster?"

"Yeah."

Sorenson shoved the last piece of the doughnut into his mouth and chewed slowly.

"What makes you think I can help?"

"The FBI and The US Attorney Office have him in Witness Protection." Beckett informed him.

"And you know this how?" Sorenson asked carefully.

Beckett looked at him. "Word on the street."

Sorenson tried not to look too shaken by that remark.

"Look, even if it is true, I don't work organised crime cases."

"Oh, come on Will. You and I both know how this works." Beckett shot back. "You reach out to the agent in charge, he talks to the AUSA running the case, and then I get to talk to Jimmy Moran."

Sorenson looked at Beckett and returned her smile.

"And I do this for you, why?" he said.

Beckett told Sorenson that she would put it another way for him. The Spolanos know that Jimmy Moran is cooperating with the government. She knew that the Spolanos want Jimmy dead because they murdered the surgeon the Feds hired to change Jimmy's face. She told Sorenson his people had put the doctor in harm's way. Beckett then added that Sorenson would be doing it for Dr Lees and for her.

Sorenson made no promises but said he would see what he could do. He eased himself off the car and started walking back to the building he had come out of.

XXX

After leaving the precinct I headed home and got ready for the time honoured hazing of one's daughter's date for the prom. Early evening at the appointed time the door bell rang. With an excited glee I emerged from my office wearing a white lab coat splashed with realistic fake blood and holding up a severed head that I had from a Halloween party from a couple of years back.

As I slowly made my way towards the door I could hardly wait to see the shear terror on young Owen's face the moment I opened the door. I was half way to the door when...

"Dad! No!" My darling daughter called down from the top of the stairs. "No severed heads."

"That's...I...It's time honoured." I offered up hesitantly.

"No."

I could not help but cringe at having been caught. As Alexis came down the stairs, Mother emerged from the kitchen.

"Richard, really." Mother said in a severe disapproving tone.

"Take it off." Alexis demanded.

Facing the full wattage of disapproval from my two favourite read heads I had to admit that my plans to haze Alexis' prom date was met with defeat.

"Fine."

I trudged off to my office to remove the lab coat and leave the severed head. I quickly made myself a little more presentable and grabbed the video camera from where I had left it on my desk and quickly came out and began filming. Owen was dressed in a tux and looked very nervous. Alexis too was looking nervous but she introduced Owen to Mother and myself.

I captured on video the moment of Owen placing the corsage on Alexis' wrist. I have to confess that my daughter and her date looked so cute dressed in their finery. Alexis took Own's hand.

"Ready?" She asked him.

"Yeah." Owen smiled.

They started moving to the front door.

"What? Whoa, wait, wait. That's it?" I said. "I don't get even get the chance to ask him if he's killed a man?"

"Dad, he hasn't." Alexis said turning to level a scowl in my direction. "But I might."

"Alright." I said with a smile. "Get out of here. Don't do anything I would do."

"Enjoy yourselves." Mother called out.

"Have fun! Bye." I said.

Mother saw them out and then closed the door and turned around.

"My little girl, she's all grown up." I sighed.

"Well, at least one of you is." Mother chided. " A severed head?"

"I was just getting started too." I told her. "I was going to break into my Christopher Walken."

Mother arched an eyebrow at me.

"Whoa! Tell me, little man, have you ever been to prison?" I said in my Christopher Walken voice.

"Very funny. Very funny." Mother said, but she was not laughing. "Leave the acting to me, honey."

My cell phone started ringing. On pulling it out I checked the caller ID and broke into a smile as I answered the call. I put on my Christopher Walken voice.

"Hi, Detective Beckett. I'm so glad you called." I said. "Regale me."

"Castle?" Came the surprised voice of Detective Beckett.

"It's my Christopher Walken. What do you think?" I asked.

"Uh...needs work." She said politely.

"In all fairness, part of it is visual." I said a little defensively.

"Listen, Sorenson's onboard." Beckett announced. "He pulled some strings and got someone at the US Attorney's office to cave."

"He's going to let you question Moran?" I could not keep the surprise from my voice.

"But we got to be there in an hour. You in?"

"Am I in?" I said lapsing into my Christopher Walken voice. "Is the Pope Catholic?"

That question was met with silence on the other end of the line.

"It will grow on you." I assured her.

"I doubt it." Beckett said firmly.

Beckett then told me that she would come and pick me up in ten minutes before she rang off.

XXX

An hour later I was sitting in the passenger seat of Beckett's Crown Victoria that was parked in a Midtown parking garage. On the drive over I had tried my Christopher Walken on Beckett again but the results were pretty much the same as the first time. I made a mental note to delete Christopher Walken from my repertoire of voices. We had been sitting there for a few minutes and I was starting to fidget a little.

"Seriously? A parking garage?" I said, breaking the silence that had fallen inside the car.

"What?"

"It's pretty cliché." I replied. I cast a look over to my right.

"Yeah, well no one said the Feds were original." Beckett muttered.

I could not help but agree with that remark. When it comes to originality the FBI had not read the book on that. There could have been any number of places where a secret meeting could have been set up but they had to go to the old chestnut. A deserted parking garage in Midtown.

"Yeah. Next thing you'll be telling me they'll be pulling up in a black Suburban with tinted windows." I remarked.

Beckett heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and looked out the window on her left. I heard it too and looked in that direction. Sure enough there appeared a black Suburban with tinted windows. It approached slowly and pulled up a short distance from where Beckett and I were parked.

"Oh, someone's been watching way too many Bruckheimer films." I said with disbelief.

Beckett gave me a small grin before we stepped out of the car.

Special Agent Sorenson emerged from the black Suburban as did Assistant US Attorney Candace Robinson and a second business suited FBI agent.

Beckett and I approached the black Suburban.

"Five minutes, Detective. That's all you get." Had Candy said firmly.

"The NYPD thanks you for your co-operation." Beckett replied.

Sorenson looked at me with a smirk on his face.

"Want me to watch the monkey?" He asked Beckett.

"That's okay." Beckett informed him. "The monkey comes with me."

I could not help but grin at that remark. Well, I am a one organ grinder kind of monkey, you know. As I walked past Sorenson I could not help but make a remark to him.

"Hey, I really like your car. It's very nondescript." I said.

Nothing screams Fedmobile than a black Suburban with tinted windows.

Beckett and I got into the black Suburban from either side and turned to face Jimmy The Rat Moran who was sitting in the back seat. We both pulled up short at the sight of Jimmy wearing a black ski mask. Beckett was the first to recover from that surprise.

"Mr Moran, I'm Detective Beckett." She announced then motioned to me. "This is Richard Castle."

"Richard Castle." Jjimmy snorted. "Like the novelist?"

"Exactly like." I replied.

"I thought you guys were cops." Jimmy said, looking from me to Beckett.

"He's consulting on the case." Beckett explained.

"Look, I already told the Feds everything I know. You want info on the Spolanos, ask them." Jimmy said.

"Actually, we're not here about the Spolanos." Beckett said. "We're here about Dr Leeds, the man who operated on you."

"What about him?"

"He was found murdered last week." I told Jimmy.

"Murdered?"

Jimmy looked surprised. Well, he would have looked surprised if we were able to see his face. His body certainly stiffened on hearing the news and he looked from Beckett to me and back to Beckett, so I guess he was surprised. Shocked even.

"The Doc was murdered?" Jimmy said. He began to fidget as if he was agitated.

"Asphyxiated. They duct taped a plastic bag over his head." I added helpfully.

"We believe the Spolanos may have been."

"May have been?" Jimmy said his voice rising. "May have been!"

"Given how Leeds was killed, and given your knowledge of the organisation." Beckett said. "We were hoping that you would be able to help identify the..."

Jimmy started banging on the window of the black Suburban.

"Hey! Hey!"

The door opened and Sorenson stuck his head in.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Get me out of here!" Jimmy demanded.

"We can help, Mr Moran. We can find the guys who did this." Beckett said urgently. "But you have to let me know if there was anyone in the Spolano family who kills that way."

"Yeah, yeah there is." Jimmy said angrily. "Me."

I looked over to Beckett and saw the small frown on her face.

"The duct tape. The bag." Jimmy said angrily. "That was my M.O. Don't you get it? They're sending a message to me. And if they got the Doc..."

Jimmy looked at Sorenson.

"Get me out of here. Now!"

There was nothing Beckett, nor I for that matter, could say or do. Jimmy The Rat Moran was no longer in the mood to talk. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He was in fear of his life.

Hard Candy ordered us out of the black Suburban with the tinted windows. If looks could kill then the look she directed at Beckett would have had her up on an attempted murder charge. Hard Candy was furious, telling Beckett that she could have just jeopardised a major Federal case.

This was the first time I had witnessed Beckett on the end of a serious telling off and I have to tell you I did not like it. It was not as if it was her fault. Without realising it I stood a little closer to Beckett. If she was going to cop it then so would I. Hard Candy merely glared at me.

Seriously if that was meant to intimidate me then she did not know me too well. I had been glared at by real masters of the art, one of whom was standing beside me. The others was ex-wife Number Two and publisher, my agent, my darling daughter and Mother. Like I said, real masters of the art.

Sorenson looked both amused and a little sheepish at what had transpired. I had a feeling that he would be getting some heat for what had happened in the parking garage. I almost felt sorry for him but then I remember his 'monkey' remark.

The black Suburban with tinted windows tore out of the garage in a squeal of tires and burnt rubber.

I had a number of quips at the ready but the look on Beckett's face had me filing them away very quickly. She would not have appreciated any attempt at humour right at that moment. There was nothing for us to do than to get in her car and head back to the precinct and prepare for some damage control. It was a silent ride back. I kept glancing over to Beckett and saw a frown of concern on her face. I got the impression that she would get a ticking off from her superiors in the not too distant future.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts on this chapter would be gratefully appreciated.**_

_**Con **_


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The Case of A Death In The Family

Part 4

Emerging from the elevator Beckett marched to the bullpen with a determined stride. I had to hurry to keep up with her. Ryan and Esposito were at their desks.

"Hey, how did it go?" Ryan inquired.

"Oh, do the words 'unmitigated disaster' mean anything?" Beckett said.

"What happened?" Esposito asked, looking concerned.

"We scared a key witness in a huge Federal case so bad that now he wont testify." I informed the boys.

"Oh, is that all?" Ryan chuckled.

I noticed Captain Montgomery emerge from his office and walking towards us. He had a grave look on his face.

"Beckett. I just got a call from DOJ." He said.

"Sir, I can explain..."

"No, no. It's Sorenson." Captain Montgomery said. "On the way back to the FBI safe house with Moran, someone pulled up next to them and opened fire. He was in the back with the witness. They were both shot."

The colour drained from Beckett's face at the news. I have to say I was shocked at the news but I was more concerned for Beckett. It was her ex-boyfriend that had just been shot.

Beckett did not speak for a couple of moments as she let the information sink in. I half expected her to start crying but I should have known better, and I did know better. I had been following her now for quite some time and there were aspects of her character that fascinated me. Actually, every aspect of her character fascinated me. She absorbed the news and steeled herself for what was coming. She asked which hospital Sorenson was at.

The Beckett, the boys, Captain Montgomery and I headed for the hospital. I was relegated to the back seat of Beckett's car. On this occasion I did not mind. Beckett was sitting in my usual seat because Ryan was driving. He had volunteered and Beckett did not fight him. We made record time getting the hospital.

We were standing around in the waiting area of the surgical floor. Beckett had gone up to the reception desk to get an update on Sorenson.

"Car was a late model sedan with dealer plates." Captain Montgomery informed us. "The guys pulls up at the lights with a mask on, blew the tyres, and starts shooting at the back of the vehicle."

"I thought the glass would be bulletproof." I said, glancing in the direction of the reception desk where Beckett was standing.

"They used cop killers." Esposito reported. "Teflon rounds. Went right through the door."

Beckett having left the reception desk came over to report to us what she had been told. She still looked pale and was struggling with her emotions. She looked to the Captain.

"He's still in surgery." Beckett said. "Moran is going to be okay."

Beckett left our group and made for the table where there was a coffee pot sitting on a warmer. She picked up one of the styrofoam cups and poured some coffee into it. I left the guys and walked over to her as she poured herself a coffee.

"Do you want to talk?" I asked gently.

"There's nothing to talk about." She shot back. "I'm the one who pushed for it, and I'm the one who got Will involved."

Beckett moved away from the table and walked over to a nearby bench and sat down and stared down at the floor. I followed her and sat down close beside her.

"There's no way you could have known this was going to happen." I told her.

Beckett turned to look at me. The look in her eyes, the anger and the need to cry warred in those hazel eyes and it wrenched at me. "Are you sure about that?" She said. "Because their vehicle was attacked leaving our meet."

"So?"

"So, we were followed." Beckett said letting the anger come to the fore. "Someone who knew about the investigation found out about our meet. We led them to Moran. So, yeah I should have known. And if I were a better cop, I would've."

I could not believe what I was hearing. She was blaming herself for what had happened. This was not her fault. I looked at her as she continued to stare into space.

"You think this is your fault? Yeah, you pushed for it." I told her gently. "Not because it's your job, but because you care. Most people come up against a brick wall, they give up. Not you. You don't let go. You don't back down. That is what makes you extraordinary."

I think my words found their mark because Beckett slowly turned her head to look at me. We held each other's gaze. I tried to convey the truth of my words in the look I gave her. She was extraordinary. It's was one of the reasons I wanted to follow her when I had gotten the idea for a new character to write.

The anger slowly faded from her eyes as we continued to look at each other. There remained the concern for her ex-boyfriend. Despite their break up it was obvious she still had some feelings for him. I don't know how long we looked at each other but we were interrupted by Esposito and Ryan who walked up to us.

"He's going to make it." Ryan announced. "He's going to be okay."

A look of relief swept across Beckett's face as she leaned back against the bench and let out a sigh. I too felt a sense of relief at hearing the news that Agent Chisel Chin was going to be okay. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the Universe.

The guys and the Captain left not long after but I stayed with Beckett for a couple of hours, talking about this and that, fetching her more of that bad hospital coffee. I tried a cup and almost spat it out. That monkey had found more battery acid in which to pee in, I remarked aloud. Beckett did chuckle at my comment. Beckett, needless to say, had no trouble in drinking the stuff.

She caught me checking my watch a few times despite trying not to be too obvious and told me to go home. I did not want to leave her alone at a time like this but I wanted to be home before Alexis got back. In the end I did head home after she ordered me home to my daughter.

XXX

I got home and picked up a book to read while I waited up for Alexis to come home. It had been such a long tiring and eventful day that I nodded off before I had managed to read a single page.

I was soon awoken by the door opening. From where I was sitting I had a good view of the door. Alexis and Owen were standing in the doorway hesitating.

When Owen leaned in to kiss Alexis I leaned back so as not to witness that particular moment. When I heard the door close I leaned forward to find my darling daughter smiling. I could not help but smile at that beautiful sight I beheld.

"Did you have fun?" I inquired.

"As a matter of fact, I did." Alexis said. "This dating thing is kind of fun."

I was pleased to hear that she had enjoyed herself, that she had a good time. I have heard too many horror stories of prom nights going wrong, let me tell you.

"How was Owen? Don't worry, I closed my eyes for the kissing part."

"Me too." Alexis said as she walked over to me. "You know, you didn't have to wait up."

"It's my job, I wait up." I told her. "I make sure you're alright."

Alexis nodded her head.

"But tonight I realised I'm not going to be doing it for much longer."

"Dad..."

I rose to my feet and smiled at Alexis.

"In a couple of years, you're going to go off to college. You're going to get married. You're going to have kids. And I'm only going to see you on holidays. Until some gold-digger steals all my money, but then I move in with you."

All right I will admit that I let my writer's imagination runaway a little bit.

"Wow. I feel like I just lost thirty years of my life." Alexis remarked.

"That's how it happens. One day you're in tutus, and the next day you're too old for severed heads."

Alexis moved closer and gave me a hug. I returned the hug.

"Dad, don't worry. No matter how old I get, I'll always be your little girl."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Alexis assured me.

"Thank you."

Alexis leaned up and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Now, go to bed." She ordered.

"Okay."

I stood there watching Alexis walk up the stairs. There was a wistful look on my face. It seemed like it was only yesterday she had been twirling around in her pink tutu looking as pretty as a picture and now she was growing up so fast. I could not help but wonder where the time had gone,

Some of what I had told her was true. It would not be too long before she would leave home and go to college and make her way in the world. I was excited and dreaded that day.

I turned and headed for my room. I needed to to get some sleep.

XXX

Beckett had remained at the hospital. She had been standing outside the ICU looking in on Sorenson as he recovered from his surgery. She was there until the early hours of the morning. When she decided to leave, she did not go home, instead she headed straight for the precinct.

If I had known about this at the time I would have come down to the hospital and dragged her home to get some rest. I only learned about it later on.

The following day though it was Saturday I headed into the precinct. There was still a case to be investigated, a murderer to be found. I arrived in the bullpen around nine in the morning, which was my usual time give or take.

I found Ryan and Esposito sitting at Ryan's desk. Both the boys wore looks of concern. Further on was Beckett working at the murder board. She had not changed clothes, that was the first thing I noticed. The next thing I noticed was that she was doing a pretty good impression of John Nash. I looked at Ryan and motioned in the direction of the murder board.

"Desk officer said she came in at four in the morning. She's been at the board ever since." Ryan reported.

"She called us in at six am to recheck every person we talked to on the case." Esposito added.

"And she's had like nine double espressos." Ryan said.

I nodded my head and walked over to Beckett as she continued to work the murder board.

"Hey, I've been reading on the Internet about this new thing called 'sleep'. It's supposed to be real good for you." I said as I approached. By the time I had reached her she had pulled out a chair and was sitting on it and staring at the board.

"Sssh" Beckett held up a hand to silence me.

Yeah, right like that was going to stop me from talking. I rested my arm on the back of her chair and leaned closer to her.

"When I gave you that little speech last night, I really didn't mean for you to go all _Beautiful Mind_ on me." I said in a low voice.

Beckett had that manic intensity as she stared at the murder board that comes from lack of sleep and nine cups of double espresso.

"It wasn't any one in the US Attorney's Office." She stated. "They wouldn't need us to find him. So it had to be someone we talked to."

"You don't think it was my Mafia connection?" I ventured.

"If he's in a rival family, they would want Moran alive to testify, because if the Feds take down the Spolanos, the other families can take over their territories."

That made sense I had to concede. Beckett turned away from the murder board and rose out of the chair and came to stand beside me.

"No. We are looking for someone who had access to the doctor before we got the case." Beckett added.

"So that leaves the fiancée and his staff." I said.

"Except the fiancée is clean." Ryan announced. He and Esposito thought it was safe to approach seeing that Beckett had not killed me for daring to interrupt her. "Phone records don't indicate any calls to unknown numbers."

"And I thought you ran up his staff." I said glancing at Beckett.

"We did." Esposito said. "And there were no records of anything to indicate ties to organised crime." Esposito passed to Beckett some files that he had brought over with him.

"What about last night?" Beckett asked, as she opened the top file and perused it. She began to pace back and forth.

"Maggie Dowd was at dinner with friends. Mario Geurrero worked late packing patient files. And the senior nurse Julia Hammond claims she was at home alone." Esposito reported.

Beckett paused and looked at us. "What was Mario doing packing up patient files last night?"

"They're closing shop. Patient files are all going to new doctors." Esposito explained.

"It's just...doesn't that seem a weird thing to be doing on a Friday night?" Beckett questioned.

"Yeah, well. When you're the low man on the totem pole, that's what life is like." Ryan said as he brought his coffee cup to his mouth. "People think they can call you into work at 6am on a Saturday."

I flashed a grin at Ryan before looking over to Beckett. The sarcastic remark seemed to have flown right over her head. She was going through Mario's file in her hand.

"Julia Hamond and Maggie Dowd, how long did they work for Dr Leeds?" Beckett asked.

"Hammond was with him for ten years. Maggie came on a few months back. Why?" Esposito said.

"Because our low man on the totem pole, Mario Guerrero, started working for the doctor about a month ago." Beckett informed us.

I was impressed with her. She had heard Ryan's sarcastic remark but chose to ignore it.

"We checked him." Ryan said. "We even called his nursing school. He's clean."

"Check again." Beckett ordered as she handed the files back to Esposito. "They can't all be clean."

With her orders issued Beckett spun on her heels and strode in the direction of the elevator.

"Where are you going?" I said as I rose and went after her.

"Too see if Mario was actually at the office last night."

On reaching the garage I made a discovery. Lack of sleep and nine double espressos makes for one very cranky Detective. As Beckett made for the driver's side of the car I pulled her to a stop and told her I was going to drive. I did not ask nor did I beg to drive. I simply told her I was going to drive.

This announcement was greeted with stunned disbelief for a moment before Beckett said no. She tried to break free of my hold on her wrist but I held on firmly forcing her to look at me. I told her that I either was driving or we were going to take the subway. That's when we had a little fight.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I won the fight. I know, amazing, right?

You might be wondering why I decided to put my foot down and insist that I drive us? Simple answer, I did not think Beckett was in any condition to be driving. I have read enough reports and statistics on road crashes from here and all over the world to know that a lack of sleep can severely impair a driver's ability to concentrate on the road. Points which I brought up during our little fight. There was no way I was going to let her get behind the wheel the way she was.

Beckett to her credit did not give up easily, she huffed and puffed and threatened all manner of retribution on me but on this matter I would not be moved. In the end she gave up and handed over the car keys. She was probably breaking a few regulations by letting me drive but she was too tired to care about any broken regs. Besides if she did get into trouble over this I know for certain that my friend the Mayor would take care of it.

I got to drive Beckett's car! Yeah!

Needless to say, it was a silent drive to Dr Leeds' office. We had not gone a couple of hundred yards before Beckett fell asleep. We would have gotten to Dr Leeds' office a little sooner but finding a parking spot was not easy, I had to go around a few times until I managed to find a spot. And no it had nothing to do with liking to watch her sleep or that I wanted her to sleep for a little longer. There weren't any parking spots, honest. Well, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

XXX

Beckett was still a little grumpy at me for allowing me to drive and for letting her sleep on the drive to Dr Leeds' office but I would survive that. After all I had a daughter who used to be grumpy at me when I had to wake her up. However by the time we got to the office Beckett seemed to return to her usual self. I was thinking that I may have been forgiven for what I had done. At least I had been hoping I had been forgiven.

On our arrival at Dr Leeds' office we found Nurse Julia and Nurse Mario were stacking boxes in the reception area. Nurse Julia turned to look at us.

"Detective. Is everything okay?" She asked.

Beckett looked at Nurse Mario.

"Mario, I need you to come with me."

"Why?" Nurse Mario asked, looking surprised.

"We need to ask you some questions." Beckett informed him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Beckett's phone decided to start ringing at that moment. She reached for it and answered the call.

It was Esposito who was calling. He was ringing to let her know that it was Maggie. He and Ryan had double checked all three nurses, calling their nursing schools and they even had them send photos. The one for Maggie Dowd was a different girl.

While Beckett was on the phone I had wandered over to the reception desk and picked up one of the cards and took a look at it.

Beckett rang off and looked at it me.

"It's Maggie." She informed me. She then turned to look at Nurse Julia. "Where's Maggie?"

"She didn't come in today, why?"

I walked over to where Beckett was standing.

"Detective." I said, and hand her the card.

Beckett took a look at the card.

"Was Dr Leeds affiliated with St Marcus Hospital?"

"Yeah. That's where we do our procedures." Nurse Julia confirmed.

"If she has hospital ID..." I said slowly.

Beckett looked at me. "She can finish the job."

Beckett turned and took off. I looked at Nurse Julia and Nurse Mario.

"You're off the hook." I informed them hurriedly. "But don't leave town."

I turned and raced to catch up with the over caffienated and hyper detective of mine. She was already on the phone when I caught up with her.

XXX

The ward at St Marcus was full of Special Agents. They stood out because of their dark suits. Even Assistant US Attorney Hard Candy was on the ward. She standing near the reception desk talking to one of her assistants while sipping some of the hospital's coffee. Maggie Dowd appeared on the ward and approached the reception desk looking for all the world like she belonged there, dressed in her red scrubs. She noted all the agents hanging around but ignored them just like the other hospital staff did. Maggie picked up a clipboard from the desk and started walking along the corridor to the room where Jimmy The Rat Moran was in.

Maggie was stopped at the door by a male agent who informed her that the room was restricted and he needed to check her ID. Maggie smiled and held up the plastic ID badge attached to her scrubs. The agent inspected it and then glanced over to his partner.

"You got a Maggie Dowd on your list?"

The female agent consulted the PDA device in her hand and a moment later looked up and confirmed that Maggie's name was on the list and that she could be let in. Maggie smiled as the first agent stepped back and allowed her into Jimmy Moran's room.

Maggie entered the room and closed the door. She approached the bed. Jimmy Moran was laying on the bed in a semi conscious state with all manner of tubes and IVs coming out of him. One of the machines next to the bed was making a steady beeping noise.

"I gotta say, Jimmy, you're a hard man to find." Maggie said. "Took me weeks to even found out that you had changed your face."

Maggie came to stand to one side of the bed. Her smile grew a little as she saw Jimmy become a little agitated, saw the panic in his eyes. Maggie reached into the pocket of her scrubs and removed a syringe and a vial. She pushed the syringe into the top of the vial and drew back on the plunger.

One of the machines began to beep a little more rapidly.

"Sodium thiopental. It's what they use in lethal injections." Maggie informed him. "It's not as much fun as a plastic bag, but it does the trick."

Maggie took the IV tap and stuck the syringe into it. She looked at Jimmy and gave him a smile as she pushed the plunger.

"Oh, and I got a message from Junior, Jimmy. He says, 'Go to Hell."

Maggie removed the syringe from IV tap and placed it in her pocket. She turned from the bed and walked to the door.

On opening the door Maggie Dowd was surprised to find Detective Beckett standing there holding up her badge. Behind her was Assistant US Attorney Candace Robinson, a couple of FBI agents and myself.

"Hi." Beckett said simply.

Maggie turned and tried to get out of the room another way but on pulling aside a curtain she found the two FBI agents who had been guarding the door to Jimmy Moran's room.

Beckett and the rest of us entered the room.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Dr Leeds and the attempted murder of Jimmy Moran." Beckett announced.

"You're too late.

I had been standing at Beckett's shoulder.

"Oh no, oh God." I muttered as I moved to the IV. I picked up the IV line to reveal that it was not attached to anything. "Oh don't worry...It's not attached to anything." I turned and looked at a shocked Maggie Dowd. "It's like we knew you were coming."

Beckett stared at Maggie. "Attempted murder of a Federal witness, what's that's going for these days?"

"Twenty-five to life." Hard Candy supplied.

Now you might be wondering how I was able to reconstruct this particular scene, especially the part where Maggie and Jimmy were alone. Well I have to thank the FBI for that. When Beckett had given them the heads up that Maggie Dowd was going to make an attempt on Jimmy Moran's life they moved with remarkable speed and bugged the room with listening devices and and a camera or two. They were kind enough to let me take a look and listen, and allowed me to take notes. So there you have it.

Whilst standing around in the corridor congratulating ourselves I got a call from Doc Murray. He did not say much other than to say he wanted to see me as soon as possible. Those words filled me with dread. I quickly excused myself, telling Beckett that I was need urgently elsewhere and that I would see her later.

XXX

For the next part of the story, I have to thank the late Captain Montgomery who briefed me on what happened when Maggie Dowd was brought back to the precinct for interrogation.

Beckett was in the interrogation room for over an hour and a half getting the story out of Maggie Dowd. When the interrogation was completed she closed her portfolio, rose from her chair and walked out of the room. Hard Candy was standing outside in the hallway near the door.

"She's all your." Beckett told the Assistant US Attorney. Hard Candy nodded her head and entered the room.

Captain Montgomery had been standing in the hallway and he fell into step with Beckett as she made her way back to the bullpen.

"Looks like you managed to set things right with the US Attorney's Office." Captain Montgomery remarked.

"She turned State's." Beckett replied. "When Moran recovers the Feds will have two witnesses against the Spolanos."

"But only Maggie back there can link them to murder."

"No, but her real name is Carla Dante. They call her Carla 'Coldblood'. She's been killing for the family for five years."

They came to a halt. Beckett turned and looked at Captain Montgomery.

"When Jimmy dropped a dime, the Spolanos sent their best." Beckett added.

"Lady hit man." Captain Montgomery said with a shake of his head. "A real blow for women's rights. And the real Maggie Dowd?"

Beckett told the captain that the real Maggie Dowd worked for a hospital in Seattle. The real Maggie did not know that her identity had been stolen. Carla had even pulled a recommendation off a job hunting site in order to apply for the position with Dr Leeds. Carla originally thought that she could get a photograph of Jimmy Moran. When she could not get the photograph she went after Dr Leeds.

"And when Dr Leeds didn't talk, she killed him." Montgomery said. "But why stay around the office?"

"If she left before Leeds' body was found, it would have looked suspicious." Beckett explained. "And she probably didn't think he'd be sitting around for a week. Then we showed up, she waited to see how far we'd get."

"That's very good work, Detective." Captain Montgomery said proudly. "Very good work."

"Thank you, sir." Beckett replied. "You know, sir, I never thought I would be saying this, but...I don't think I could have done it without Castle."

When I heard this particular bit I could not help but smile. It amused me to think that Beckett would grudgingly give me credit for helping her solve the case. I have sought confirmation from my beautiful and ever inspiring muse and extraordinary partner in life, but she claims that she had no memory of ever having said that.

"Where is Castle, anyway?" Captain Montgomery asked.

XXX

At that moment while Beckett was basking in the praise from Captain Montgomery for a job well done, I was at home, in my office to be exact with Dr Murray. We were seated on my couch and spread out on the small coffee table were the autopsy photographs of Johanna Beckett.

"The original ME concluded the stab wounds were random." Doc Murray informed me.

Judging by the grim look on his face there was more information to come so I remained silent and waited for him to continue.

"Now, maybe the killer got lucky but," he pointed to a particular photograph, "see this wound here?"

"Yeah."

"It's a low angle thrust to the kidney. The wound size indicated that the knife was twisted. Her body would have gone into immediate shock."

"What about these?" I pointed to some other stab wounds on the pictures.

"Well, their angles indicate that they were delivered after she was immobilised and on the ground. They are just for show." Doc Murray pointed to the first stab wound. "This is the one that killed her."

I sat back a little and considered the information he had just told me. I looked at Doc Murray.

"This is sounding less like a random killing, and more like a targeted murder." I said slowly.

"There's more."

I gave him a nod to continue.

"On a hunch, I checked the City ME files to see if this was an isolated incident and found three other stabbings around that time, that the ME working the case had dismissed as random."

I looked at Doc Murray. "Were they related?" I asked him.

Doc Murray gave me a pointed look.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he said slowly.

Doc Murray had brought me significant information on the case. I could have stopped right there and thanked him for the work he had done, then sent him on his way. I didn't do that. I was curious and the need to know the full story was over powering despite all the warning bells that were suddenly ringing loudly in my head.

"Yes." I said, nodding my head. "I'm sure."

Doc Murray then spent the next half hour telling me what else he had discovered and what he told me sent a chill through me, the likes of which I had never before experienced.

Both Doc Murray and I were grim faced when I saw him to the door. Like the other time Mother happened to be around. She had not eavesdropped on this conversation but she did not need to. She saw my face and knew that the news that the Doc had delivered was not good. I headed back into my office and told her some of what the Doc had told me.

I went to stand by the window. It was raining and I stared at the falling rain hitting against the window. I was torn about what to do.

"You have to tell her, you know." Mother said.

Mother was standing in my office and looking at me at the window.

"Do you know what this will do to her?" I replied as I turned to look at her.

"You have information that could lead to her mother's killer." Mother pointed out. "You can't keep that from her."

"I know. She said that if I opened the file that we'd be through." I said bleakly.

"It doesn't matter." Mother insisted. "She has to know."

I let out a sigh and turned back to the window.

Mother words was right and yet I did not want to tell Beckett because it would be over between us. Beckett had said as much when she had warned me off digging into her mother's case. I had seen the look in her eyes when she had told me and I knew that she was not joking.

But my investigation had unearthed new information that could provide a new lead in the case. Did I have the right to withhold this new information from from her? I had never felt so wretched as I felt in that moment. Damned if I did and damned if I didn't.

The question of whether to tell her or not kept me awake for most of the night. I tried to get some sleep but all I did was toss and turn, until I had to get up and go into my office and stare out the window. After considerable soul searching I reached a decision around dawn. I would tell her about what I had found and prepared myself for whatever consequences that might come my way.

XXX

I came into the precinct mid morning only to find that Beckett was not there. I had been expecting that she would have been hard at work tackling the paperwork relating to the case. Ryan informed me that Beckett was down at the hospital visiting Sorenson.

Ryan saw the look on my face and asked if everything was alright. I brushed off his concern with a few quick words and hurried out of the bullpen.

As I walked along the corridor towards Sorenson's hospital room I heard the sound of laughter. It was Beckett laughing. It was a wonderful and beautiful, unrestrained sound that I loved to hear but only heard rarely. She sounded happy and I felt even worse because I would soon be the one responsible for changing that.

I reached the half open door to the room and paused. I peered in and saw a wan looking Special Agent Sorenson looking at Beckett who was sitting close to the bed. He had a smile on his face as he watched her eating a doughnut.

"I thought you were over sprinkles?" Sorenson chuckled.

"Maybe not." Beckett replied with a grin before she popped another piece into her mouth.

I took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Both Sorenson and Beckett turned to the door to find me standing there.

"It's the writer monkey." He chuckled. "What is he still doing here? Haven't you finished your book yet?"

"Last chapter." I told him. I then looked to Beckett. "Do you have a sec?"

"Yeah." Beckett put down the doughnut she had been eating and rose to her feet.

"Watch it, Kate. He likes you." Sorenson remarked.

Beckett grinned as she approached me. "You'll have to forgive him." she said. "He is heavily medicated."

We walked out of the room and into the corridor. Beckett came to a stop and turned to look at me.

"You look awfully serious." Beckett frowned, noting the look on my face. "Is everything okay?"

"Take a seat." I replied, as I motioned to one of the seats along the wall behind Beckett.

"What?" Beckett chuckled.

"Sit down."

"Castle, what's going on?"

"It's about your mother." I said in a low voice.

A look of shock spread across Beckett's face. She took a couple of steps backwards from me. Shock was quickly replaced with anger. She glared at me with out saying a word. I could not hold her gaze. I moved and sat down in one of the seats. Beckett sank down beside me after some moments. I could feel her eyes on me.

I told her about what Doc Murray had found, I did not hold back. It was the least she deserved. I also told her that it appeared that her mother's murder was not some random act of violence but a targeted murder.

Beckett did not speak as I briefed her, she listened to everything I told her. When I had finished she remained silent. She was silent for a very long time. Slowly I lifted my eyes from the floor to look at her and saw that the colour had drained from her face. She was staring at me. There was anger burning in those hazel eyes of hers but what wrenched at me was not the anger but the look of total disappointment that I saw.

After some minutes she slowly rose to her feet. I got up as well. She turned away and slowly started walking back to Sorenson's room.

"Beckett." I called out.

Beckett paused but did not turn around.

"Please leave." It came out as hoarse whisper.

I nodded my head in understanding. There was really nothing I could say right now. She would not have listened, I was sure of that. I hoped that some time soon she would allow me the chance to explain.

I rose to my feet, cast one look at her then turned and started walking away in the other direction.

The End.

XXXXX

_**There you have it the end of Volume 1 of The Castle Case Files. I hoped you enjoyed it, and if you did feel free to send a message. Volume 2 of The Castle Case Files will appear some time next year.**_

_**As usual I would like to thank everyone who added this story to your favourite's list or decided to follow me. A big thank you goes out to every one who sent me a review, I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciated them.**_

_**For all those of you who celebrate it, May you have a wonderful Christmas.**_

_**Peace, Love and Happiness.**_

_**Con **_


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